


The World Without

by indigomini



Series: The World Without [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Appropriately Violent Mobs (Off-Screen), Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Language Barrier, M/M, Mental Link, Mind Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Nymphs & Dryads, Pain, Poor Understanding of Politics, Public Hand Jobs, Public Masturbation, Public Nudity, Talking Animals, Unrealistic Portrayals of Government
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2018-12-13 01:17:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 27,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11749095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigomini/pseuds/indigomini
Summary: After the Break, magic has drained from the world, taking nearly everything with it. Kyungsoo gets by these days by taking on the precarious job of traveling across the wasteland from biome to biome as a glorified delivery boy. Wolf has just announced a very handsome bounty on a dangerous forest nymph, but the man who rescued Kyungsoo...surely, he's not what the government is claiming?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  (Poster courtesy of [fanserviced](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanserviced)!!)
> 
> Thank you to B, Mod U, and E for suffering me while I agonized over this fic. Thank you to EVERYONE who encouraged me when I was crying about this. Thank you to the mods for being so understanding and letting me drag it out for as long as possible. Thank you to my prompter for this wonderful, painful challenge. I hope I did it justice. I'm sorry this fic is such a mess. And I hope none of you ever look at fish the same way ever again. Also, I guess it could've tasted like maple syrup, but I liked honey better.
> 
> Fun fact: Alternate titles for this fic were Two Moons or Unless, but those were a bit extra, even for me.

These tracks are fresh. Not that Kyungsoo has ever been that much of a hunter, but it doesn’t take a genius to notice that ash was packed down into the depressions left behind by cloven hooves. He wipes at the condensation on his oxygen mask and squats down for a better look, losing footing momentarily and landing hard on his rear. Luckily, there is nobody around to witness this embarrassment, and Kyungsoo's face soon recovers from its bright red coloring. This place was freshly razed. These tracks are fresher. Prey?

If it was deer… Kyungsoo allows himself to daydream, his mouth watering at the idea of having fresh meat for dinner. How many months has it been? A year even? Actually, maybe closer to two? Even a small deer could feed them for days… It is rare, but not unheard of. Dare he? It is only mid-afternoon. The sun looms nearer to the horizon, but its heat is still holding. Plenty of time. His stomach growls, vibrating up his chest cavity. Fortune favors the bold, his mother had said. Apparently, his stomach agrees.

The world is not colorless. It still exists in mottled greens and reds, browns and greys, but they are muted down, drained. It is as if when Hegemon Nasda–or Wolf, really (everyone knows who’s  _ really  _ cranking the gears behind the curtain even if he’s the one who pulls the lever)–killed the first moon and broke the world, emptied it of magic, that it tanked the planet’s saturation levels along with it. Life now exists in dulled, appropriately  _ lifeless _ , hues. He walks past the husk of what was once a regal King Cherry tree, not even slowing down to honor the dead. There are too many other things to mourn these days than some pretty, old tree.

A dash-dot-dash pattern vibrates in his front pocket, and Kyungsoo suppresses an eyeroll. The day's news bulletin, straight from Wolf News - the hegemony's propaganda machine. Likely Nasda’s latest hissy fit or fearmongering or some other ghastly display of phobia and ignorance. Mandatory to view before the day is over to stay off the radar and avoid fines; but thankfully, the day is not yet over. Besides, unless the hegemon himself has keeled over or one of the many rebel forces actually managed to overtake the government, the only piece of news that is of interest to anyone would be the incentive announcements. And  _ that _ can wait until after Kyungsoo sees if he can square away a little dinner treat first.

Smaller tracks periodically intersect with the first, veering off for a dozen meters or so before curving back again. Kyungsoo doesn't recognize it. Clearly, the deer wasn't too distraught by its presence, its own tracks holding steady, no sign of it attempting to flee or getting attacked. Maybe the second set belonged to a fawn. Maybe tonight, they can have a feast.

Except how will he bring back two carcasses? Crap, how will he bring home even just  _ one _ ? But it would be stupid to stress about the  _ maybes _ of getting his bird in the hand when right now, they're both in the bushes. Kyungsoo has to  _ find _ it first. And then he has to actually  _ kill _ it.  _ Then _ he can fret over the details.

He comes to a halt as he approaches a clearing. There is something about the way the branches intertwine among the trees. It's almost... _ familiar _ . Kyungsoo knows he should continue following the tracks, but there is something about the knots in  _ that _ tree, the whorls in the wood grain. He can't help but take a step closer, and another, until it is directly in front of him.

His gloved fingers run over the rough bark, so brittle now that pieces crumble away at the slightest bit of contact. What  _ is  _ it about this- Kyungsoo lets out a gasp, the next exhale fogging up his mask, and he tries to twist and turn around the condensation to make out the lines in the dead wood. 

“도ㄱ” it should say, choppy partial letters carved with tiny hands using dull, primary school safety scissors. Unfinished as his hand ached and he grew bored, moving on to other things. It gives him a headrush, the realization that  _ this _ tree, this single rare Betula in  _ this _ clearing, somehow still exists.

Only the headrush intensifies, and suddenly the ambient  _ whoosh _ of diluted oxygen being fed into his mask goes silent after one last dying whistle. Kyungsoo jerks to his feet, twisting around to check his pack. His breathing has already quickened as he fumbles with the tube through the thick material of his gloves, tracing it to the small tank on his back only to find it has been disconnected. Shit. Oh shit, oh shit, he thinks, feeling the earth suddenly spin as he tries to jam the tube back into its port. He’s been meaning to fix the loose connector for months and that fall earlier must have knocked it out of place. Apparently Kyungsoo was destined to die from procrastination. The panic takes on a life of its own, ripping gasps from his burning lungs.  _ Dammit _ , he's going to die by his old house, next to his old tree, and his brothers will probably never know what happened. One last surge of energy to try and click the connection, and Kyungsoo wants to roar in frustration as the tube's connector slips right over its receiver, missing by scant millimetres. His vision darkens from the edges inward at an alarming speed. The last thing he remembers is sucking in a wheezing breath before everything fades to black.

—

Kyungsoo wakes up to a full body sneeze where he curls in on himself and his abdomen convulses. He rolls to his side, immediately jerking back and swiping at his nose to expel the soft foreign things trying to poke at his face before cranking his eyes open.

He must be dead. He must have died. But he can't tell if this is heaven or hell. There is too much going on. Everything is so bright, he can't even tell what he's looking at. His brain eventually feeds him the word "flowers", and Kyungsoo looks down at his hands, palms pressed into the soft earth, to parse it out further. It almost hurts to look at such vibrance. He is sitting on a bed of blue flowers. "Periwinkle," his brain offers again. This type of blue has another, more specific name.  _ Periwinkle _ , he remembers reading off of a crayon, a lifetime ago. There is so  _ much _ of everything. Outside of his bed of blue are wildflowers of every color, vivid and swaying to an easy breeze. The air is fragrant, perfumed by all the  _ life _ around him.  It is overwhelming his senses.

Something rustles to his right, and Kyungsoo's head snaps in that direction, eyes squinting through all the colors to try and see what new insanity his mind has conjured up. At first, he spies nothing, but the flowers stir again, and he catches the slight movement enough to hone in on it. Amidst the petals is a small creature. Brown. Brown, he is familiar with. Brown doesn't hurt his eyes. It slinks closer, several meters away before peeking its tiny head up. Its body is long, allowing it to stretch easily over the field to look straight at Kyungsoo.

A weasel. There's a tiny weasel looking at him. Its whiskers twitch and it drops into the flowers again, meandering a trail through the field to its edge before vanishing behind a tree. Not much meat. Clever little things, he recalls. But still meat. It won’t be steak, but they could surely make a stew and spread it out between them three. Assuming he is still alive, and the verdict is still out on that theory.

The flowers part again as the weasel returns, crawling directly for him this time. Kyungsoo crouches forward, tensing his body. He’s unsure what his tactic is here… Should he just lunge for it? Hit it with a rock? Grab it in his fist and choke it to death? Oh, that’s barbaric. He’s never killed anything with his bare hands before. The weasel is going at a much slower pace this time, he finally notices. Perhaps it is onto him. But weasels shouldn’t be alive right now anyway. Their bodies are so small, unable to hold onto whatever residual magic is left on the planet. They were among the first to go, after the insects. Maybe Dream Weasel or Death Weasel or whatever this little guy is understands that. He’ll make such a tasty stew. Kyungsoo silently thanks him for the upcoming meal.

Pop! goes the weasel, its head peaking up again. Kyungsoo jerks forward, intent on crushing it or catching it or—honestly, he doesn’t even know anymore, because in its tiny little white-tipped front paws is a blood colored thing. It holds it out in offering, patiently. He stares at it. It stares at him. _Strawberry_ , he eventually realizes. It’s a strawberry. Bright red. A fruit. A lifetime ago, back when his parents were alive, back when they could do frivolous things like celebrate birthdays, and make cakes, they had put fresh strawberries on them. The creature makes an annoyed little squeak and shakes the strawberry at him. Oh gods, he is most definitely dead.

Carefully, Kyungsoo reaches toward it, his fingers stretching out, ready to snap back at the slightest sign of aggression. But the little beast doesn’t attack. It actually leans forward to hasten the process, and mere seconds later, Kyungsoo is holding a strawberry in his hand and watching the weasel disappear back into the flowers.

It is warm and perfectly shaped, like the kind you would see in a book. The bright green leaves are springy to the touch, with no hint of dryness. This is a freshly plucked strawberry that somehow exists outside of the biomes. It must be poisonous. That’s the only explanation for something so beautiful to exist these days.

The flowers rustle again and Kyungsoo looks up to see the weasel has returned with yet another strawberry, chittering in annoyance at him. He takes the fruit, collecting both in one palm, and jumps as the animal continues to berate him.  _ Eat it _ , it seems to say.  _ I didn’t hand-carry each one for you to just stare at it _ .

Death by weasel strawberries. What are his chances? Reluctantly, Kyungsoo brings one of them to his lips, biting off the end. His eyes nearly roll back into his head as a little bit of juice trickles out the corner of his mouth, caught by a knuckle and licked back up again. It is sugary sweet, with just a hint of acidity. A perfect strawberry, bursting with flavor he hasn’t tasted in years. He polishes off the rest in a few short, greedy bites, regretting his haste but also just in awe of this experience. This may have been the best meal in his life. Kyungsoo is gnawing the last bits of strawberry off of the leaves and contemplating eating them too when he spies that the weasel had left and returned, holding another one. He accepts, no trace of hesitation this time as he pops it into his mouth, chewing blissfully. It takes off again, and Kyungsoo rolls onto his knees to watch it. Where is this magic garden?

The weasel trails through the flowers back toward a large tree on the edge of the clearing. He had missed it from the angle he was in before. Kyungsoo gasps as he sees a hand stick out from behind the tree trunk and hold out another strawberry for the creature to take.

“Who’s there?” he yells out.

The hand vanishes back behind the tree, and the weasel tilts its head up to squeak at the hidden stranger, shaking the strawberry disapprovingly at them before throwing it to the ground.

“Come out,” Kyungsoo tries again over the weasel’s diatribe, dialing his tone from Alarmed down to Extremely Curious. “Please?”

Slowly, fingers curl around the trunk before a head pops into view a moment later. Kyungsoo doesn’t know what look he has on his face, but all he feels is shock as the person finally steps forward.

The man before him is strikingly beautiful, just like the delicate flowers and vibrant strawberries. His light brown hair is unkempt, only pushed back to not obstruct his face, but it nearly glows as the sun hits it just right, causing a halo effect around the man’s face. He is nude, his body a warm bronze from head to toe. Kyungsoo is momentarily dumbstruck as he gapes, but his awe quickly transforms into alarm. How could this man be alive? To not have a mask to correct the oxygen levels, or a body suit to filter the lethal UV rays… 

Kyungsoo gasps again as he drops his gaze to his own bare hands, fingernails caked from the soil underneath. He jumps to his feet to look down at his torso.  _ His _ UV suit has been removed.  _ His _ oxygen mask as well. He has been breathing in  _ raw air _ . The next gasp turns into a deep inhale, and he is hit again with the fragrance of the flowers around him. They are not in a biome. There is no way they’re in a biome. Even the most affluent of biomes cannot mask the distinctly stale, recycled, synthesized air.

The man. Kyungsoo remembers the beautiful, impossible man and looks back, fearing or hoping he has hallucinated the whole thing and finding him standing in the same position as before, wide almond eyes watching him curiously.

“What—who-” Kyungsoo sputters, before finally settling on, “ _ Am I dead _ ?” The man blinks and bends down to pluck the strawberry from the ground beside the annoyed weasel, considering his choices briefly as he rolls it around in his fingers before walking forward to hand to Kyungsoo.

At first, Kyungsoo thinks it is debris threaded through his hair, but as the man approaches, he realizes that they are flowers. Delicate, white, feathery sprays in a loop on top of his chestnut brown hair. A crown of flowers. Roses? It is the first flower Kyungsoo can remember, but these are much simpler in shape, much smaller. He can’t even recall any other flower names right now, his system too shocked to venture any deeper into his memory bank. The crown rests on the man’s hair so naturally, one would think that  _ everyone _ should wear flowers on their heads. Based off his face and his body, Kyungsoo would guess they must be around the same age. Definitely beyond his teenage years, not yet nearing middle aged sagging, anyway. From here, he can make out what would be freckles scattered across the bridge of the man's nose and across his cheeks, except they are light on tan skin instead of reverse - like looking up at a starry sky, if one could survive outside of the biomes at night to actually view them anymore.

The man purses his rosy lips and looks down at the strawberry before offering it to Kyungsoo again. This whole scenario is beyond ridiculous. “How— _ where _ did you get this?” Kyungsoo asks, holding the fruit up to eye level.

Nothing. Blank. The man shows no recognition to his words. Kyungsoo repeats it, a little louder this time. He’s met with another empty stare before the man looses a stream of swishy consonants and guttural, hollow vowels of his own. His voice is warm and rich. It suits him. But Kyungsoo has no clue what he has said. He shakes the strawberry at him again and holds his hand up next to his own head, palm turned skyward in question.  _ Where...did this...come from _ ?

The man looks back and forth between the berry and Kyungsoo's eyes several times. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath and gestures for Kyungsoo to follow as he turns and walks back to the tree.

Kyungsoo watches as the man reaches up to touch a low branch. “No,” he sighs in frustration, “where did you find the  _ str- _ ” The rest of his sentence fizzles and dies as a small white bulb spawns from the tree, expanding quickly until it fits into the man's hands. He stares, dumbstruck, as it ripens, morphing from lime green speckled white into a vibrant red. The man plucks it loose and hands it over.

_ Strawberries don't grow on trees _ , Kyungsoo's mind contributes, and he almost says it aloud before it occurs to him how pointless of a statement that is, especially to this—this person, who is somehow able to survive the daily depleting oxygen and harsh ultraviolet rays after the ozone layer has started vanishing. This strange man who can grow strawberries from his fingers...he should not exist. This is not real. Or if it is real, it cannot be a good thing.

“Where is my suit?” he says instead, waving his hand over his mouth to mime a mask. He can hear the panic rising in his voice, matching the tension in his gut. “My  _ suit _ ,” Kyungsoo says again, patting his chest uselessly. “What have you done with it?” That last sentence might’ve come out too loud, too accusing, and Kyungsoo swallows around the lump in his throat, tasting fear on his tongue.

The man startles a little at the loud questions and seems to almost pout before leaning to the side and pointing behind Kyungsoo. Rolled up a few meters from where he woke is his suit. Kyungsoo gives the man one last suspicious glance before dashing to it, reattaching the air filter port, and climbing into the suit as quickly as he can, keeping his eyes trained on the stranger the entire time. The bitter flavor floods his taste buds once again as the oxygen mask feeds recycled air back into his lungs. He normally doesn’t notice it, considering it’s only slightly worse than biome air, but whatever poison he’s been breathing in here is sweet, delicate. The man hasn’t moved, only changing his expression to confusion as Kyungsoo turns and flees without another word.

It couldn’t have been that long that he was unconscious, stuck in that mirage. (It was definitely a mirage. Just a mirage...) The temperature has dropped to chilling, but there is just the slimmest sliver of sun on the horizon, keeping the cold from the shriveled, surviving moon from reaching killing levels. Kyungsoo runs across the barren landscape aimlessly, searching for anything familiar. The chemical aftertaste constantly stings his tongue. He is reminded of that beautiful field and its sweet air, and reminds himself also that neither it, nor the man inside, could be real. No human could survive outside of the biomes, especially with no suit or mask. No man could grow strawberries from trees, much less with just a touch. Not in this world. Not anymore. Not since Wolf took over.

His muscles burn in protest at the strain, and his extremities have started going numb when he recognizes a familiar cluster of dead trees. This is near one of his routes. As he adjusts his trajectory, Kyungsoo lets out shouts of hysterical relief, the fear seeping away now that he at least knows how to get home. Stray thoughts flitter in, mentally mapping out where that hallucination must have taken place. And that man, the golden looking angel with a crown of flowers and stars for freckles.

His teeth are chattering violently by the time Kyungsoo passes the retina scanner at the gate of his biome. The balmy heat, typically an annoyance with its heavy, sickly sweet, sewage smell, is a lifesaver right now, warming him up gradually. Finally, his feet can slow down, and they turn to bricks in an instant. Poverty had put his house on the edge of town but far from the gates. It takes almost half an hour in his exhausted state to meander back, the dome going entirely dark around him. He is dragging his feet by the time he unlocks the front door. Hovel, sweet hovel.

“What the  _ fuck _ , Kyungsoo?” screams Baekhyun the moment he steps inside. “I was so fucking worried! Where have you been?”

The walk home had emptied the last bit of his energy reserves. Kyungsoo holds a hand up weakly as he pulls his suit off. It takes him three tries to hook the suit back into its charger. Sweat stings his eyes, but something red inside of his glove catches his attention.

The strawberry. It was real? Kyungsoo reaches in and hides it in his palm before turning back to a very angry older brother. “I got lost,” he mumbles, swiping at his eyes.

“Sehun was proposing that we go out and find you!” Baekhyun shouts. “My suit was still charging. We were about to go barter with the neighbors!”

“I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo grumbles, finding it hard to be apologetic with exhaustion converting too readily into irritation. He had already faced the possibility of death earlier. Now he just wants to rinse off and sleep. “I didn’t exactly mean to get lost.”

Baekhyun wipes his face angrily, pressing knuckles into his eyes before he finally drops his hands and growls. “Whatever,” he snaps. “Food’s in the microwave. I gotta be up in less than three fucking hours for disposal day tomorrow. I’m glad I don’t have to work overtime to afford to bury my fucking brother. Good night.”

“Love you too,” he mumbles, hearing Baekhyun return a grumpy sentiment before he disappears into his room.

Back to the literal issue at hand. He’s holding a real strawberry. Going by the lack of hunger pangs from his stomach, that means he really  _ ate _ other strawberries today too. That grew from a tree because a man with flowers in his hair touched it. In a world where 90% of their normal vegetation had died in a matter of days, because they needed magic to survive just as much as they needed soil or water or sun. The rest is tightly controlled—er, “carefully distributed”—by companies with ties to the government and line Wolf’s pockets, and the cost of fresh produce is out of most people’s income ranges.

He is salivating at the memory of the taste of strawberries again. But he should save this and split it with his brothers.  _ Except _ ...how is he supposed to explain where he got a single, perfect strawberry? And he’s feeling fine now, but what if it’s actually poisoned? The man literally  _ grew it from a tree _ . That, in the very least, warrants some suspicion.

A dull buzz goes off in the background before Kyungsoo recognizes what it is and hurries to grab his comm. He drops onto their couch with a sigh, stuffing the strawberry into his mouth to free up both hands and taps through to the news bulletin. Glamour shots of Nasda overlaid heavily with all kinds of meaningless medal and ribbon graphics flash through the screens before a Wolf news lady smiles - appropriately  _ wolfishly _ \- at Kyungsoo. The entire first five minutes of their broadcast is praise for the hegemony and how successful and great they are, complete with an announcement that Hegemon Nasda’s 80th birthday is tomorrow. To celebrate, they will erect statues in every country in his honor and mark it as the first worldwide holiday to celebrate the peace and prosperity he and the Wolf regime has brought to this planet.

The “peace and prosperity” that resulted in mass extinction of nearly all animal and plant life, forced humans to abandon metropolitan areas when large buildings crumbled as magic drained out of the foundations, and human population was decimated down to a quarter. The same peace and prosperity that caused Baekhyun, a renowned, premier historian, and Kyungsoo, a botany research professor, to now work as a trash collector and delivery boy, respectively. At least their baby brother Sehun never even reached college before the Break. The memories sour the perfect, juicy sweetness of the strawberry, and Kyungsoo swallows it with a frown.

The news lady drones on for ten more minutes about all of their supposed accomplishments, providing no evidence and often times contradicting herself. It’s infuriating to watch, but Kyungsoo’s learned a long time ago to tune it out. It’s mandatory to view, it’s not mandatory to pay attention. The regime wants very badly to rewrite history, but he’s not one of the many who will buy what they sell; hook, line, and sinker.

Finally, the caption under the woman reads “Incentives Announcement” and Kyungsoo tries to snap out of his reverie of stardust freckles and flower crowns to turn back to the screen. Around this time every year is when they unveil the more tantalizing rewards. The odd animals they demand are rarely found near Kyungsoo, yet he manages to always keep his fingers crossed. Of course, she has to go on for several long minutes about reporting suspicious neighbors and “unbecoming behavior” first, but eventually she rounds out to more interesting news. Images slideshow on the screen of fresh fruits and vegetables, steaks sizzling on a grill, and a very doctored image of a clear blue sky. “As you are aware,” the news lady says, “due to the commitment of the hegemon to the people, the temporary halt on produce and meat distribution will soon be lifted.”

The “temporary halt.” They’re really trying to call the Break that  _ destroyed _ their planet, literally sucking all color out until it was a gray husk of a world where nothing could grow, a “temporary”-fucking-“halt.” As if it was on purpose. As if the  _ billions  _ of people who starved to death were just foolish or lazy or stubborn. And then to go in afterward, and deny the death count even after it is repeatedly confirmed… His blood boils and he has to take in a few deep breaths to prevent from channeling Baekhyun, or even Sehun right now. Just focus on the information, he tells himself.

“The reward for the capture of this terrorist creature destroying the crops,” the lady continues, unbothered by how easily she skips over devastating worldwide tragedy like it is just an interesting statistic, “is a thousand credits, a month’s supply of  _ fresh _ groceries with meat  _ and _ greens, as well as one month’s rent for your biome, which will surely help with the new increases starting soon!” Next to the woman is an artist’s rendering of this…”forest nymph” supposedly hampering the hegemony’s gifts to his people. It’s made to look like a daemon, and she goes on to explain that it is highly dangerous, but even with the heavy hand the artist used to depict him as wicked, there’s no chance Kyungsoo wouldn’t recognize the man from earlier.

A forest nymph. Automatically, his brain raises questions on why a  _ forest nymph _ would be destroying vegetation, but more pressing and present is how much it makes sense that the man was able to grow a strawberry out of thin air in that oasis earlier. Except it also doesn’t, because  _ magic no longer exists _ , and all of the gods and anything else too imbued with magic have died out with it, as confirmed by Wolf Media on a daily basis, even as they call for the capture of what is most definitely a minor deity with no explanation.

“However, if the creature can be captured alive,” the woman adds with a brilliant smile. “The reward is increased to six months’ rent and two months of fresh food. Praise to the hegemony.” And with that, the clip ends.

There are too many conflicting emotions running through him right now. On one hand, he is pretty sure he knows how to find his way back. And that’s potentially a  _ lot _ of money for their family. Artificial biomes filter out UV damage without the need for bulky suits, and are basically the only way they can survive without the ozone layer. And since the hegemon’s second-in-command is the owner of all of the biomes, he gets to dictate what rent should be, and he doesn’t believe in being soft after such a minor crisis as  _ the end of the world _ . Nearly all of the money they make goes toward paying rent for this sewagey, disgusting hellhole of a biome. The rest goes to factories who are willing to sell them what’s left of their expired canned foods stock. He wouldn’t have even been able to imagine a table full of fresh groceries if he didn’t just eat extinct fruit a few minutes ago.

Which brings him to the other hand. Which is the fact that Kyungsoo rightfully should be dead, and this man saved his life. And fed him. If he’s really the forest nymph that they’re looking for, could Kyungsoo really turn him in? His parents would be-

His parents are dead, and their orphans still need to eat and live and take care of each other. And he has to be up in two hours to do deliveries for the neighboring biomes. Kyungsoo shakes his head to clear the cloud of uncomfortable thoughts around it as he settles into bed, nudging Sehun over so he has enough room. 

He is pleased to find that he is alive and well the next morning. If they were poisoned strawberries, then he is at least immune. Kyungsoo stumbles toward the charging bases and inspects his suit, double-checking the oxygen tube. He finds bits of the strawberry leaves on the inside of his glove, as well as pink stains from where the fruit was squashed during his escape back to safety. Definitely not a hallucination then.

There are a few minutes to spare as his can of soup heats up, so he picks the lock to Baekhyun’s room and peruses his shelves. Forest nymphs...forest nymphs… There’s a children’s book here on one, one of Sehun’s old favorites where the nymph plays hide and seek with small goat men. He flips through it, finding nothing but a glorified counting game, and sets it back on the shelf next to The Lorax. That one is kind of a forest nymph, he supposes, but he’s wanting actual  _ information _ . Most of Baekhyun’s surviving library centers on linguistic differences through the ages, but he manages to find a thin volume on minor deities and demigods.

Dryads, mermaids, nymphs...nymphs… The words fly by as he thumbs through the book. Forest nymphs. Spirits bound to trees. Known for their breathtaking beauty. Protectors of the forest. Huh. He wouldn’t describe the Lorax as  _ beautiful _ , but different strokes, he supposes. The golden man wearing the floral circlet…a real, surviving forest nymph then? One that somehow held on after the Break when all other gods died out?

The Break… What a sour thing to recall as he treks to work. President Nasda taking office and immediately lifting sanctions to allow his goons and backers to wreak havoc on the planet. Within weeks, events scientists had predicted wouldn’t happen for decades were dominoing one right after the other. Species dropped like mayflies. Crops were failing. And then Wolf media rose up to push the idea that Nasda was somehow the  _ solution _ , not the problem. What he needed in order to fix everyone’s problems was unquestioned, unfettered, global access. Despite most countries’ reservations, his team somehow corralled enough (of the right) support to turn his presidency into a worldwide hegemony. One scandal after another, each growing more preposterous and severe, highlighting the full range of corruption, incompetence, and blatant sabotage, and yet his regime persevered.

And as they crippled the earth’s defenses, Wolf stepped in to push for full replacement of the failing natural resources, dismissing any wrongdoings on their part as heresy, arresting anyone who protested and labelling them terrorists. Until it finally reached a threshold, and one of the moons withered and died, taking with it the remaining magic in the world. The final Break. Temples turned to dust, cities fell, and so, so many people died. And still, they deny blame. And still, they clamor for more. It sickens him, and leaves him feeling too helpless if he lingers on this reality for too long.

— 

"You going for that reward?" Chanyeol asks as he ladles soup into a small bowl and hands it to Kyungsoo. "I've got an extra shotgun you can borrow if you wanna pair up and split it."

"What?" Kyungsoo sputters, almost dropping the hot bowl in surprise. "Oh m- No. I don't—I don't think I'll...have time."

" _ No one _ 's got time," Chanyeol says, ripping the receipt off the register and pushing it across the counter with Kyungsoo's change on top. "But that's a lot of food and money. People are  _ making  _ time. Just think about it. A  _ lot _ of money."

It’s been two days. The situation has only escalated in the last forty-eight hours with everyone in his biome buzzing about all the things they could buy if they catch the forest nymph. His schedule is short today. Kyungsoo rushes through gathering orders in Biome 7, trying to ignore that nagging voice in the back of his head all day long and reminding himself that the meadow is  _ really _ close to this Biome. Oxygen is expensive. His suit will need replacing soon, and it’ll be even sooner if he goes off in search of strawberry-growing criminals.

But...there’s the reward. Yes, the reward. He’ll just go to assess, see for himself again. He has the advantage. Literally no one else knows the forest nymph is here, and they can’t just put the mileage on their expensive suits on a whim. That makes it practically an  _ obligation _ . For his family.

That’s all the convincing he needs. Kyungsoo hastily books it toward the general direction of the clump of old trees. The sun is still high in the sky. Normally, he’d be upset finishing his routes on days like this, knowing it’s only earned him probably half the amount of money he’d make on average, but it is a boon today. He nearly misses the clearing, dismissing it at first glance until he recognizes the familiar pattern of branches. The color of the wood is different. It looks… Kyungsoo steps closer and presses his hand against the bark. It doesn’t chip away this time. There’s...warmth in the wood. Less gray. Less lifeless. Curiouser and curiouser…

Except now Kyungsoo has no clue where to turn to. He can rule out the path he came from at least, but that leaves three other directions.

The end of the world is on his side today. The ground has been parched to dust, and this area sees no regular traffic. The winds have caused a lot of it to settle smooth, but Kyungsoo can still make out the faint grooves where his panicked feet had carried him, the weight of his suit causing deeper impressions on barren ground. It’s patchy, and there are some areas where no tracks can be seen, but it’s something.

The meadow still takes him off guard even though he was expecting it, was actively  _ looking _ for it. The colors must have grown even more vibrant since he was last here. Feeling brave, Kyungsoo steps into the middle of the flowers and eases off his mask, hand ready to clamp it back into place as he inhales. And again, and again. The suffocating feeling isn't there. The air doesn’t feel thin. His lungs aren’t protesting. There’s just that sweet fragrance, and after a particularly deep whiff, Kyungsoo drops his mask from a surprise sneeze. He scrambles to pick it back up, and looks around quickly, ready to fend off attackers.

No weasels. No intriguing nude man with stardust freckles growing tree strawberries. Just him and the flowers. Kyungsoo pushes the mask back on and walks the perimeter of the meadow. It takes him a couple of trips, but he eventually spots what might be small hoof prints in the dust. Beyond that, possibly bare footprints. He takes one last glance up at the sky, at the sun still bearing down, and sighs before taking off to follow it.

Kyungsoo hears a splash before he can see any markers in the landscape. He quickly adjusts his trajectory and, upon finding more tracks, hurries along until he sees more greenery. Ahead, he can see a pond, and his heart sinks as the tracks head toward that direction. Oh no…

His feet pick up into a full-blown run once he spots a familiar forest nymph, dark blond today apparently, ... _ walking into the water _ . “Hey!” he bellows, arms flailing overhead. “HEY! Get out of there! It’s toxic!” 

The man is already up to his waist, and stops to locate the source of the screaming. Recognition flashes in his eyes and he smiles broadly, holding a hand up in greeting.

“Get out of there! Are you crazy?” Kyungsoo yells again, stopping a short distance from the edge of the water. The pond is  _ crystal clear _ with a yellow tinge to it. How much more of a warning does one need? Does this guy not have any sort of survival instinct? “Hurry!”

The man may not understand him, but surely body language should count for something? The panicked yelling? The crazy arms? Instead, Kyungsoo has to watch helplessly as the man lunges forward, going completely underwater for a few meters before resurfacing and rolling onto his back, floating in the deadly pond. His eyes are closed, like he’s just enjoying a casual dip.

Something wet touches his hand and Kyungsoo jerks back in panic, somehow thinking the pond had come up to dissolve him into tiny pieces. What he finds is even less logical. A deer. Its soft, brown eyes shine as it stares at him. He stares back, rendered speechless. It licks his hand again and nudges him gently to the side so it can step closer to the edge of the pond.

It takes him too long to notice the tusks. A  _ water _ deer. A holy creature. Even before the Break, Kyungsoo can’t recall ever seeing a real one before, even in the temples. They were so rare, most people only know them from paintings. And here one is, at the end of the world, watching a man swim in a pond full of acid.

A quiet splash drags Kyungsoo’s eyes away from the animal before him, and something small lands in the pond again. He squints and can make out the weasel prowling the edge of the water, sniffing around determinedly and then tossing yet another small object in.

The deer steps forward and lowers its head. Kyungsoo feels panic rise and nearly drags the creature back.  _ It’d be a waste of meat _ crosses his mind, before he remembers, yes,  _ water deer _ , and that thought is followed by yet another:  _ but there are no gods to worship anymore, and this is perfectly good meat… _ The water deer laps at the surface, and Kyungsoo watches as the ripples spread out until they reach the man. He has almost forgotten all about him. Each ring that touches his bronze body flashes bright white for an instant before disappearing, and Kyungsoo’s jaw drops as he watches the warning tint fade from the pond. It turns crystal blue as the deer continues to drink, and the small objects the weasel tossed in earlier glow white hot on the floor of the pond, until the blue deepens into almost a grassy teal, growing somehow more opaque.

The man goes under again, the flowers in his hair floating away and spreading out on the surface. The next ripples hit them instead and Kyungsoo stares in awe as they bloom into a field of floating leaves. Another ripple causes swollen stems to rise up among them, the bulbs blossoming into large, delicate white flowers, tipped in a warm pink, until the entire once-dead and lethal pond is bursting with plant life. A whole pond full of sacred lotuses. The man resurfaces, laughing musically as he eases a leaf off of his shoulder.

And then the man slowly wades toward Kyungsoo and the deer, until he’s walking out of the pond, water dripping off his hand as he reaches for Kyungsoo’s gloved one. His instincts too shocked to respond, Kyungsoo allows it, giving a blank stare as the man gestures back toward the pond with a curious look. An invitation.

“That’s dangerous,” Kyungsoo says, out of reflex.

An encouraging nod and more hand gestures from the man, who smiles warmly as the deer bumps its nose against his hand. He pets it briefly before it walks away, and his attention goes back to Kyungsoo. More hand motions. How odd that a couple of days ago, he had found it weird that this man wore a flower crown, but now he looks so out of place without it. So bare.

He hasn’t been in water in so long, and what just happened was so surreal… “Okay,” Kyungsoo says, already pulling his mask off before freezing and pointing at it, raising his eyebrows in question at the man.  _ Is it safe? _

The man nods again, touching the tip of his own nose and inhaling dramatically.  _ It’s fine _ .

And apparently that’s good enough for Kyungsoo, who quickly strips down without another thought toward self-preservation. He would feel self- _ conscious _ , but he's not the only one naked here, and the man seems quite used to it anyway. At least he doesn’t abandon all sense, and pauses for a second at the water’s edge, holding his breath as his toe dips in. But it doesn’t burn, and he’s not dissolving and screaming. The man at his side doesn’t try to shove him in and watch as he writhes to death. All good signs so far. He takes another deep breath and drops his whole foot into the shallow water, feeling the cool rush against his skin, water going between his toes and tickling. It feels good. It feels  _ incredible _ . He braves another step, both feet submerged in pond water now.

The man touches his elbow and then walks in ahead of him, diving once the water reaches mid-thigh. Kyungsoo’s reservations go underwater right along with him, and he wades in quickly, doggy paddling after him and treading water amidst the lotuses waiting for the man to resurface. He even lets out a loud whoop, splashing happily in the cool pond, momentarily swept away in the delight of  _ swimming _ . The air here isn’t as sweet as the meadow, but it’s full and clear and clean, and Kyungsoo floats on his back, flapping his hands in minute motions as he stares up at the sky.

The sun is overhead, but he only feels a warmth, not a burn. This can’t be reality, but whatever drug the man has put him on feels  _ so  _ real, feels  _ so  _ good, that he can’t be bothered by fear right now.

That is, until a hand touches his waist, and Kyungsoo jackknifes, causing his buoyancy to vanish in an instant and he goes under, coming back up sputtering and coughing. A firm grip keeps him from going back in, and he wipes at his eyes to clear his vision before finding himself face to face with the man again, who is repeating something over and over in a small, whiny voice as he helps push Kyungsoo’s hair out of his eyes.

“It’s okay,” Kyungsoo says, assuming it is some kind of an apology. The last syllable gets distorted as a wet finger presses into his bottom lip, smooshing it inquisitively. His head jerks back and Kyungsoo furrows his brows indignantly as he shakes the finger away.

The man tries to explain something, speaking slowly and emphasizing certain words, as if they hold any meaning whatsoever to Kyungsoo. He gesticulates, fanning an arm across the surface of the water and causing a couple of lotuses to float off a short distance.

“I don’t know what that means,” Kyungsoo says, trying to hold onto the joy of sculling water.

The man sighs loudly as he rolls his eyes back in a mix of annoyance and frustration and taps at his own lips, speech slowing down even more. He points at Kyungsoo’s mouth, and then back at his own before nodding again, brows raised expectantly.  _ ‘Get it yet?’ _ he seems to ask.

“Are you asking for a kiss?” Kyungsoo guesses. “I’m not kissing you. I don’t even know you.”

Another exasperated sigh. The man taps at his chest. “ _ Jong. In _ ,” he says slowly, repeating it several times. “Jong-in.  _ Jong-in _ . Jong. In. Jongin.” He then fans his hands toward Kyungsoo and lifts his shoulders.

“Your name is Jongin?”

The blank stare only lasts for a second before the man nods.  _ Sure _ . He tries to repeat Kyungsoo’s sentence, garbling the first part and then emphasizing each syllable of his name again. Jong. In.

“Okay…” he drawls out slowly, pointing a finger at his own face. “Kyungsoo.”

This, Jongin repeats perfectly. Good. Cool.

“Thank you for saving my life,” Kyungsoo says. “The other day. When my suit stopped working.”

Jongin launches into another speech, gesturing all around the pond, pointing at the sacred lotus leaves, and then back to Kyungsoo’s mouth, and then to his own lips again.

“You want me to kiss you?” Kyungsoo asks. What on earth does that have to do with the lotus leaves?

The man seems to repeat his speech all over again, the frustration seeping into his words this time. His eyes light up when Kyungsoo makes an experimental smooching sound with his own lips, and Jongin nods enthusiastically, pointing again at the lotus flowers around them.

This makes  _ zero _ sense, but at the same time, he literally just watched this man and two extinct animals turn a pond of acid water into a palatial scene. So that’s the price to watch, he supposes. It could be worse, especially in this day and age.

Kyungsoo wades closer again, only jumping slightly as Jongin supports him with hands on his waist. At this close distance, he can see the freckles spattered across the bridge of the man’s nose and cheekbones again, bright white, almost iridescent flecks against golden skin. Small buds of soft white flowers are growing in a ring around his hair again. Apparently, they come back. His brown doe eyes are studying Kyungsoo intently. He is really beautiful. It’ll be a fun memory.

Jongin starts up his speech again, only to be cut off as Kyungsoo leans forward, bracing his hands against the man’s chest, and touching Jongin’s lips with his own. It causes them to sink for a moment, and they have to flatten against each other to free their arms and legs, kicking to keep upright. Jongin’s lips are warm and soft, and the air seems fresher against his skin, and everything leaves Kyungsoo feeling temporarily dazed as a strange, heady rush goes through him, not even caring as the water splashes up past chin level.

Jongin pulls back with another bright smile before they break apart and he wades away. Kyungsoo watches on in mild confusion as Jongin swims up to the shore, just enough that his shoulders peek out shyly from the water, and looks back at Kyungsoo expectantly. Nearly a minute goes by, and when Kyungsoo still  _ clearly doesn’t get it _ , the man purses his lips and flags Kyungsoo over.

Here in the shallows, Kyungsoo can easily stand. There is much less cover in this clearer area of water, and he goes to modestly shield his crotch as Jongin starts complaining again. Kyungsoo throws his hands up in annoyance, splashing the water with his palms. “I don’t know what you wa—”

The rest of his sentence dies a tragic, forgotten death, as the man,  _ while continuing his rant _ , grabs Kyungsoo’s genitals briefly and then mimics a jerking motion in the water. He’s so shell-shocked, he almost misses Jongin fanning his hand over toward the lotus flowers, one after another, before giving Kyungsoo yet another irritated look.

“...What…” Oh no, he's a pervert.

Jongin’s eyes roll up to the heavens in exasperation and he mumbles something quietly to himself before turning back to Kyungsoo. His lips contract into an annoyed line and he wades until the water comes down to his thighs, crooking a finger for Kyungsoo to do the same. 

When Kyungsoo shows no sign of joining him, Jongin covers his face in his hands and makes a frustrated groan before looking back up. His hands fall to his sides momentarily, swinging in the air as he thinks of how to communicate between them. The freckles shimmer across his skin from this angle, catching the sunlight. Some of the buds in his hair are opening up. It speaks volumes about the situation he’s in that this hardly surprises Kyungsoo anymore.

What  _ does _ surprise him is when Jongin says his name to catch his attention and then reaches down between his legs to grasp his own flaccid penis, exaggeratedly stroking it while maintaining constant eye contact with Kyungsoo. And then he pulls off, hand still fisted loosely as he mimes...possibly his ejaculate...hitting the water in a spray, complete with a  _ fwoosh _ sound effect.

... _ What is happening _ .

The man makes encouraging motions at Kyungsoo, eyes bright and hopeful that his “demonstration” has cleared things up when the only thing that has happened is his touch has caused his dick to actually harden a little, and it’s just incredibly distracting as Kyungsoo finds himself staring at the movement and simultaneously trying to look elsewhere.

“ _ Kyungsoo _ ,” the man says again, to get his attention.

This man is a dangerous fugitive wanted by Wolf. He knowingly jumps into acid ponds and performs impossible feats. And he’s demanding Kyungsoo perform sexual acts for his amusement. What are the odds of death here if he tries to make a break for it…

Except Jongin saved his life when he had no incentive to do so. And it doesn’t really seem like he’s wanting Kyungsoo to...mimic him...for perverse entertainment reasons. The man is ranting again, pointing at the lotus flowers and stretching an arm out over the pond before yet again miming that Kyungsoo should pleasure himself.

“I don’t really...feel comfortable doing that,” Kyungsoo tries carefully.

Jongin pinches the bridge of his nose as his eyes close and he sighs to himself for the umpteenth time. He’s muttering to himself again when a couple of syllables bounce through Kyungsoo’s head and register.

“Man?” he translates, and then realizing how useless that word is without context, tries to repeat the word Jongin had used.

The nymph’s eyes light up. In an instant, he’s before Kyungsoo and gripping his shoulders, speaking too fast in his excitement. His voice pitches up at the end of his sentences, forming questions that Kyungsoo has no clue where to even start parsing.

“I don’t know a lot of the words,” Kyungsoo says slowly. He racks his brain, trying to evoke memories from over a decade ago. This was his parents’ life work. This was Baekhyun’s area of expertise before the Break. And that makes this whole conversation all the more disturbing. To speak Eoneo, to speak  _ only _ Eoneo, a language so dead, even its reincarnations have long been forgotten by all except specialized scholars… Even priests, back when the temples existed, only knew key phrases. Only a select few people who train in diachronic linguistics know enough to speak somewhat proficiently.

The only words he can even recall are the ones his parents taught him as a kid. Just nouns. Or ‘I love you,’ but that’s not exactly useful here. “Uh,  _ tree _ ,” Kyungsoo says, cringing as he feels how mangled the word is shaped as it leaves his lips. But Jongin smiles as he recognizes it and claps as Kyungsoo points at a tree for emphasis. “ _ Cloud _ . What else. Um.  _ Fish _ .  _ Wa— _ ”

Jongin yells something excitedly at him and shakes him by the shoulders again. He repeats the word. “ _ Fish _ .  _ Fish _ .”

“Fish,” Kyungsoo translates, nodding approvingly when Jongin echoes it.

And then the man goes and points at his crotch again. “Fish,” Jongin says, straightening up and pointing at the flowers. “Fish?”

“Neither of those things are fish,” Kyungsoo says, eyes growing wider as he tries to take a step back, hand dropping between his legs to shield from future gropings.

“Fish,” Jongin insists, and then repeats his motions. Kyungsoo’s groin. The lotus flowers. There’s  _ no _ correlation here.

“Not fish.”

“ _ Argghhh _ ,” Jongin growls. He tugs at his hair and storms out of the pond, trailing water as he stomps over to the weasel and crouches down to talk to it, hands waving crazily.

Kyungsoo steps out of the pond, feeling the earlier adrenaline seep out of him. Shakily, he gets dressed, ignoring Jongin turning to berate him in that whining, annoyed voice some more, with the weasel joining in this time with its squeaky complaints.

“Look, I don’t know what you are all expecting from me,” Kyungsoo says as he tugs on his suit. It is difficult and slow-going with his clothes sticking to his damp skin, and his hair still dripping everywhere, but he manages. “I don’t know if this is like a ritual sacrifice thing or what, but I’m just gonna go.”

He’s managed to take a couple of steps, but the nymph jogs over and cautiously catches one of his gloved hands. Jongin asks something in a much softer voice, eyes pleading. Met with no resistance, he adjusts his grip on Kyungsoo’s hand and guides him away from the pond. 

It is still early in the afternoon. It wouldn’t hurt to explore just a bit more now, rather than to put on some more mileage with his suit later.

“I should warn you…” Kyungsoo starts, knowing how useless it is to try and explain, but feeling uncomfortable in the silence. “Wolf knows about you. You should probably go back to where you came from.”

Jongin answers with a clipped, disinterested sentence, as if remarking on something he finds mildly irritating. Maybe he’s complaining about Kyungsoo some more. They’ve walked for a little bit now, with Kyungsoo occasionally remembering and turning to watch in awe as Jongin continues to walk barefoot over this inhospitable terrain, naked in these conditions, breathing in and out as easily as if he were in one of the biomes. It does not make any sense. Nothing about this makes any sense.  _ Fish _ , he thinks to himself again. What does fish have to do with anything?

He recognizes the clearing before they reach it. Did Jongin just escort him to make sure he could make his way back? That...did not even occur to him. Kyungsoo is going to need bread crumbs or something for next time.

No. No next time. What is he thinking? He came to...capture Jongin? Whatever his original intention was, it’s moot now. Kyungsoo is clearly outmatched and clueless, and for survival’s sake, he needs to steer clear.

They come to a stop in front of his tree, the one with his initials from another lifetime, and Jongin says something as he mimes Kyungsoo taking the gloves off.

“Why?” Kyungsoo asks, pursing his lips after at the foolish feeling. Why even ask that, as if he’ll understand the answer.

Jongin offers one anyway, gesturing repeatedly toward the trunk before resting his palms on it and looking up at the branches. A brief smile flits across his face, the brilliance matching the bright freckles across his nose.

No harm in trying, he supposes. Better to get all his curiosities out this trip than to chance it itching his mind and making him want to make another expensive expedition back out here. Okay. Kyungsoo takes a breath and starts unsnapping his gloves from the rest of his suit when a hand blocks his vision. Jongin has reached over to try and undo his mask. He startles, reflexively holding onto the filter against his face, eyes wide as he stares at the nymph. “...Is it safe?” Kyungsoo asks.

Jongin nods and says something.  _ Yes _ , probably. And then slowly tries to pry the mask off again. This time, Kyungsoo lets him while he busies with getting his gloves off. There’s still that fleeting moment of panic when the mask is pulled off, but he sighs out the first breath of natural air happily. It doesn’t have the same scents here as it did by the pond, and definitely not the same as the meadow, but it is clean and, as far as he can confirm, safe.

The nymph takes his hands gently, says another couple of words, and then presses them into the tree, right over Kyungsoo’s old engraving. He moves around, so he’s standing behind Kyungsoo, arms on either side to cover his hands again. Before Kyungsoo has a chance to voice any complaints on personal space, however, Jongin hums out a low, clear note. Something sparks from Jongin’s palms into the backs of his hands, but curiosity overrides fear right now. He hears Jongin’s humming resound in his brain. In his chest, in his blood, like a flower blooming. It feels wonderful and beautiful, and he is suddenly so swept up, he feels tears form in his eyes. Beneath his hands, he can feel—almost  _ see _ —the xylem rings inside the tree, the deep, deep roots stretching down to what should be a dead core of a dying planet. But he  _ feels _ it, a tiny spark. And as Jongin sings, as he unwittingly joins in, the spark notices them somehow, as if it were a sentient thing, and reaches out. And as if he were the tree roots, Kyungsoo reaches back in greeting. The contact spreads, upward, through thousands of layers of rock and soil and dust, and then he  _ sees _ , right before his own eyes, a short vine sprout between his hands, and dozens of clustering bubbles swell out from it. Large, plump grapes, deep purple in color, perfectly ripe. Jongin quickly plucks two of the bottom ones away.

He turns to see the nymph chewing blissfully, eyes closed as he savors the bite. Kyungsoo waits until he finishes and reopens his eyes before pointing back at the grapes. Is it okay? Is he...allowed to? Jongin’s fingertips come up to his face and carefully brush away the tears that have gathered there before he smiles and motions encouragingly toward the fruit.

They’re surprisingly heavy, Kyungsoo observes, looking down at the freshly picked Kyungsoo-made grapes in his palm. Satiny, perfectly round, and huge compared to what he can recall grapes looking like. The skin is thin, breaking easily under the pressure of his teeth, and an involuntary whimper leaves his lips once the juices reach his tongue. He must still be swept up in the high of watching these come into existence, of the head rush from earlier. He doesn’t even have enough words to describe how it tastes, but surely grapes have never tasted like this before. It is syrupy, almost like it’s been candied, and it is just so,  _ so _ good. The memory of how these grew is fading. He can recall the actual, physical events, but the  _ feeling _ is slipping away. Something about being one with the tree roots, but the sensation is lost to him now.

Saddened by the loss, he looks over to see Jongin’s cheeks bulging as he tries to fit too many grapes at once into his mouth. The man notices the attention on him and blushes, setting the star patterned freckles against a rosy backdrop as he chews quickly, giggling to himself in embarrassment. His hair is a medium brown now. Was it not blond earlier? Did the light refract differently over the pond somehow?

Jongin swallows and sheepishly wipes at any traces of leftover grape in the corners of his mouth before grabbing Kyungsoo’s hand and leading him to the edge of the clearing. He then walks to the center, glancing back to make sure Kyungsoo is watching.

And then he starts to dance. The air is charged from the first move. He twirls effortlessly, a toe sweeping a wide arc across the dust before he leaps into the air. His eyes are closed, a private smile on his lips, freckles glowing as he moves. As enchanted as Kyungsoo feels, he can’t help but notice that the whole clearing is responding. What once was dust warms into a deep, rich brown before sprouting thin blades of emerald grass. The trees explode with leaves, and then blossoms. Until finally, the dance slows, and Jongin spins in a final circle, ending on his knees, on a bed of delicate flowers. His crown is back, in full bloom again. He is panting and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and he looks over to Kyungsoo and beckons him closer.

It still doesn’t smell like the meadow, but the air is sweeter than before. Kyungsoo reaches down and brushes his palm across the tiny lavender flowers, letting them tickle his skin. He just watched magic. Real magic. After the Break. This isn’t an illusion. Jongin says something, and Kyungsoo tilts his head up toward the nymph, only to have Jongin sandwich his face with rough hands, and pull him in. There is spark in the kiss, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Kyungsoo vaguely remembers that there was a spark in the one earlier as well.

_ ⹁⹁Do you understand?,, _

He pulls away with a snap of his neck, and stares at the nymph in shock. That was Jongin’s voice, inside of his head, unaccented, clear as day. The man searches his face for comprehension. “I-  _ what _ -...” Kyungsoo mutters, feeling the spark fade away. Magic. He just watched three feats of magic, and yet he’s somehow still surprised. “... _ Warn _ me next time.” Perhaps he should have said something about invading personal space too, but Jongin sighs and reaches for him again, and Kyungsoo doesn’t protest.

_ ⹁⹁Do you understand?,, _

Yes, he understands, but how is he supposed to respond? It’s not like he can just  _ think magic thoughts _ .

_ ⹁⹁I can hear you.,, _

Oh  _ shit _ —

This time, it’s Jongin who pulls away to giggle quietly to himself. He hides behind his hands as Kyungsoo glares at him, getting the last of the residual snickers out before he leans in again. Reluctantly, Kyungsoo allows it, even tilting forward to expedite the process. It is  _ so _ weird, having someone in your head.

_ ⹁⹁I am not in your head.,, _

Yeah, that’s totally convincing. The nymph can just read thoughts through kissing. That makes it better.

_ ⹁⹁I am not reading...you are telling me these things.,, _

Kyungsoo grits his teeth and forces himself to focus. Is there a purpose here? The dance was incredible. The grapes before that, even if he regretfully can't recall the feeling, he still has the memory of it.

_ ⹁⹁It is a gift from the earth. It is meant to live only in that moment.,, _

The earth is dead though. Is Jongin trying to save it? That is a lost cause. It can't be saved.

_ ⹁⹁It can. I am waking it back up.,, _

The term is odd, but strangely appropriate, stirring up ghost memories of reaching deep through tree roots. That's what it had felt like. Creating the grapes didn’t cost him any of his own energy, magic he didn’t have to give. Waking the earth back up…

_ ⹁⹁Will you help me?,, _

How is he supposed to do that…  _ Also _ , and much more pressing, Wolf knows about Jongin, and people are going to try and hunt him down and very likely try to kill him. Pretty as he is, he doesn’t look like much of a fight—

Jongin pulls away, eyes wide in a mix of fear and confusion. He asks something softly, and then stands up and begins to pace in circles.

“Jongin?” he asks as the forest nymph walks away, back toward the pond. Kyungsoo calls out for him again. There is dead air between the clearing and the pond, and he can’t follow without his gear. “Jongin!”

The man is already several paces outside of the clearing, but he stops suddenly, and turns back, frowning at Kyungsoo. He speaks, his voice soft and sad, more for himself than anything, seeing how Kyungsoo can’t understand any of it. And then he heads back toward Kyungsoo, a hand mussing through his now chocolate brown hair, dislodging some of the small flowers. Another few words are murmured, and then he pushes the white petals into Kyungsoo’s gloved hand before turning around and walking off again, shoulders drooping.

And then Kyungsoo is alone in the clearing, staring helplessly at the glossy flowers cupped in his hand. By his feet is a patch of the tiny lavender flowers Jongin had made, and he is careful not to crush them underfoot. He stands there for a while, looking at each tree, and trying to invoke memories of his childhood to compare. Had the clearing looked as vibrant as it does right now? Surely, it must have been even more back then, when magic flowed freely into everything.

His trip back home is easier this time. He knows where the clearing is now, and the pond, and the meadow. It won’t be hard if he has to come out here again. Distantly, he recalls thinking he was only coming here to scope out the forest nymph, to consider if he wants to turn in him for the reward, or to just...prove his existence. And instead, he got to see Jongin magically purify a poisoned lake, spontaneously grow sacred lotuses, and sing grapes into existence. What is all of this supposed to mean?

It nags on his mind, like he is supposed to  _ do _ something about all of this. But what can he do? The options are to:

  1. Turn Jongin in.
  2. Not. 



The thought of inaction settles uncomfortably in his stomach as he makes his way home.

— 

Dinner is canned silkworm pupa, canned kimchi, and what they’ve been assured is real rice. At least it passed their burn test, anyway. They’re down to single digits in canned braised beef with no hopes of repurchasing, so they’ve been saving those for special occasions. That leaves mackerel, but Sehun’s allergies get even worse with those. In these days, not even all the canned foods survived. Those lined with the right metals, the ones that were less responsive to magic, are the only ones that kept their shape. The ones contaminated by magic, normally harmless, disintegrated or burst after the Break sucked all of the magic away.

His food is even more tasteless than usual, sour and vaguely textured on his tongue, especially after the exquisite grapes from earlier. Baekhyun and Sehun were arguing again. His mind has been too focused on the flowers hidden in his lap to notice, but with his appetite fleeing, he slowly tunes into the fight.

“We are  _ always _ being monitored,” Baekhyun says, glaring down into his bowl of rice. Oh, it’s this fight again. This is going to get ugly.

“They can’t monitor all of us, all of the time,  _ brother _ ,” Sehun retorts. Kyungsoo is just going to middle brother right out of this one. Sehun was too young when their parents were killed, leaving Baekhyun to step in and raise everyone while grieving  _ and _ working  _ and  _ dealing with the Apocalypse. It has mostly sapped everything except for bitterness out of him. But Sehun, Sehun still has the audacity to believe things should be better, and loves to express it.

“It doesn’t matter,” Baekhyun continues. “This isn’t the same world as before the Break, where you can just go spew your thoughts with your friends wherever and however you wish. Under this hegemony—”

“ _ I _ didn’t put him in charge,” Sehun counters. “He’s not my hegemon.”

Baekhyun finally drops his chopsticks onto the table. It seems Kyungsoo’s tuned in just in time. “Oh, and did  _ I? _ Did I cause this? Did Kyungsoo? You’re implying a democracy - but that doesn’t even matter. It’s totally irrelevant. You wanna talk about revolution with your friends? Sounds cool, doesn’t it? But it doesn’t do shit to change who is in charge. It doesn’t change the reality that we live in, and it doesn’t change that every whim and bit of displeasure from this regime  _ immediately _ resounds and reflects on us.” Baekhyun is  _ seething _ . He’s about to implode. “So no, he’s not  _ your _ hegemon, but you still get affected by him. He doesn’t require your permission or acknowledgement to fuck up our lives. But please, go live in your superiority cloud all you want, where you can  _ talk _ about how things would be better if you were in charge, endangering  _ everyone _ with your bullshit. The rest of us aren’t as privileged and have to actually face the consequences of this reality. So go chant it to your friends and high five each other for your edgy fucking performative rebellion circle jerk, while willfully accomplishing exactly nothing. Me, I’m gonna shut my fucking mouth, so I can keep what’s left of my family alive.”

With that rant, Baekhyun’s chair screeches back against the peeling vinyl floor, and he storms off for his room after a brusque “goodnight.” Sehun’s mouth opens and shuts a few times before Kyungsoo can pocket the flowers and go console him.

“It’s okay,” Kyungsoo says, squeezing his little brother’s shoulders. “He’s just tired.” While he doesn’t necessarily think Baekhyun was  _ wrong _ , that was a rather unduly harsh row. 

“Does he think I don’t know these things?” Sehun says, recovering half a minute later. “I’m not  _ delusional _ . I know the truth. But being quiet doesn’t do anything. Lying down and just taking it…”

Kyungsoo purses his lips. “I don’t really know if he was saying to just  _ lie down _ and take it.” Baekhyun had been part of one of the rebel forces after all, back before their parents were trapped in their house and cooked to death.

“And besides,” Sehun continues, “we’ve been through so much. The Break, Wolf, our parents, everything. I should be able to talk about whatever I want with my friends. We’re allowed to have coping mechanisms.”

Kyungsoo blurts out, “Maybe what we need isn’t to cope, Sehun.” He steps away, dropping his arms to his sides. “Maybe what we need to do is confront the truth. Then you won’t just be surviving.”

As he gets ready for bed, he feels the slight bumps in his pocket. The flowers. This was his truth, bruised and soft by now. But what is he supposed to confront here? Clearly, he’s not going to be able to turn Jongin in, no matter how sweet the reward. It’s not just flower crowns and starlight freckles, or magic, or that Jongin is harmless and trying to actually do some good in the world, no matter how futile his efforts may be. It’s—he doesn’t quite know. But then what? Ignore him until someone  _ else _ finds him, and captures or kills him? Otherwise, just what is he supposed to do?

—

Baekhyun and Sehun are still on bad terms, and with one leaving early for work and the other moodily holed up in his room, Kyungsoo has no one to cook for today. There is a big crowd in front of Chanyeol’s stand this morning as he approaches, but nobody seems to be in line. Instead, they all appear to be huddled together in small groups, chattering excitedly.

“Did I miss something?” Kyungsoo asks at the register.

Chanyeol rings up his usual breakfast and darts away to pour up his bowl with an extra spring in his step. “Did you miss the Wolf bulletin last night?” he asks.

“It wasn’t mandatory...?”

“Ahh,” Chanyeol nods, rubbing his lips together to prolong the suspense. It doesn’t last very long. His eyes sparkle as he continues. “It’s here! The forest daemon!”

Surely, he must have misheard. He  _ must _ have misheard. “What?”

Chanyeol flutters a hand anxiously. “The  _ forest daemon _ ,” he repeats. “They announced last night that it’s probably in our region. We have a fighting chance! This is so amazing. So everyone’s banding together to make hunting parties for it this weekend.”

He isn’t sure how long he stares, slack-jawed, at Chanyeol, but eventually Kyungsoo recovers, closing his mouth with a soft pop. “...A-are you sure?” he asks.

“It’s worth a shot,” Chanyeol says, oblivious. “Don’t worry, we’ve got room for you in my party if you wanna come. Even split six ways, that’s so much food and money.” He interprets Kyungsoo’s silence for the wrong kind of nervousness. “It’s okay, Kyungsoo. You don’t have to be a good hunter. I mean it’s not hard to shoot a gun.”

“A-a gun?”

“Yeah?”

It doesn’t matter how many times he blinks, it doesn’t seem to wake him up from this. “ _ Hunting _ parties?” Kyungsoo asks, still unable to keep up. “You mean... _ search _ parties?”

“Well,” Chanyeol says with an easy smile, “we’d have to search for it first, obviously.”

It. Why does he keep calling Jongin an it. Like he’s a tree or an animal or something otherwise inconsequential. It finally hits him, the last piece of information: this weekend. That’s tomorrow. How—What. He looks up again to see Chanyeol has stepped away from the register to balance on a stool as he pushes an oiled cloth through the barrel of a shotgun.

They’re going to kill Jongin. This weekend. It sounds like a game. Like a group bonding activity. Slaying an innocent man who’s only trying to help fix a dead planet.

Kyungsoo rushes through his morning errands. Normally, today would involve going to Biome 6 and 11 to fill repairs list parts, as well as picking up any mail to bring back, but Kyungsoo abandons the second biome as he races back to the clearing. He has to do  _ something _ .

The path to the clearing is more conspicuous now. It is richer, warmer. It would not be difficult for someone to find Jongin once they see this. Except they would be mistaking it for some sort of demonic hallucination instead of an actual miracle. 

In his mind, he would stumble upon a bloody trail that would lead to a disemboweled Jongin, and that only makes his heart race faster. No nymph in the clearing.  _ Fuck _ . He’s exhausted by the time he reaches the pond, but the sight of tan skin and blond hair is such a relief, Kyungsoo barks out a grateful laugh while shouting out the man’s name.

Only once he approaches does he remember that their last meeting did not end particularly well. His nerves are frazzled, stirred by the paranoia and energy from the crowd back at home, and the anxiety of not knowing whether someone had found this little pocket of magic and life. For a moment, he wonders if Jongin really  _ is _ dangerous. The nymph’s large eyes are gentle as they look over him, and as he approaches, Jongin taps on his mask. He slips it off without a second thought.

“— _ fish _ ?” He only catches the end of Jongin’s sentence. His damned obsession with nonsense fish again.

“I’m not here for fish,” Kyungsoo grumbles, trying to catch his breath. He resists the urge to roll his eyes as Jongin repeats the sentence again, with more insistence this time. He’s trying to  _ save a life here _ . Half a minute passes, with Jongin’s tone getting increasingly whinier as he points at the sacred lotuses. Finally, Kyungsoo holds his hands up, motioning for Jongin to come forth and kiss him again. They don’t have time for this.

The nymph gives him a bemused look before slowly advancing. He is surprised as Kyungsoo cups his face and pulls him in quicker. They  _ really _ don’t have time for this. Their lips touch and Kyungsoo tries to broadcast as clearly as he can:  _ You have to leave. There are people coming to kill you _ .

Jongin angles his head in a different direction and puckers his lips to mold flush against Kyungsoo’s.

_ Hello? Is this thing on? _ He feels like he’s yelling so loudly in his head, that surely he’d get a reaction of some sort by now, but all that happens is Jongin brings his hands up to rest on Kyungsoo’s shoulders. He pulls back, staring perplexed at a brilliant smile from a too-pleased nymph. Belatedly, Kyungsoo recalls that he never felt the spark of magic like he had the other times.

“...Are you  _ kidding  _ me right now,” growls Kyungsoo as he squeezes his eyes shut. A long exhale later, he opens them to find Jongin watching him, a pleasant, carefree expression on his face. “I need to...to  _ talk _ to you,” he tries, motioning back and forth between them and tapping on the side of his forehead.

Understanding  _ finally _ reaches Jongin’s eyes, and the nymph lets out an embarrassed chuckle, blushing yet again, a beautiful rose underneath the dazzling star freckles. He purses his lips, a stray giggle escaping, before he leans forward. The spark tingles the moment their lips touch.

_ ⹁⹁You have very nice lips.,,  _

In his mind, it sounds almost like an apology, tinged with embarrassment. That’s- Well, thank you. He’s always thought they were among his better features.

_ ⹁⹁They feel nice.,, _

What the hell is he doing? No.  _ Focus _ . There are people-

_ ⹁⹁Have you come to give me fish?,, _

This relentless obsession with fish! What is it about him and fish? Where is he supposed to get fish? He has some canned mackerel, but how is that supposed to be related to his dick? What does that have to do with flowers? Does Jongin want some canned fucking mackerel in tomato sauce? They could probably spare one.

_ ⹁⹁The flowers need fish. The pond needs fish.,, _

Good for them. Kyungsoo would like fish too. He hasn’t had proper fish in almost a year. But that’s not the point. The  _ point _ , he thinks, finally getting back on track, is that the people in the biomes know about Jongin being here. Or rather, that he’s around here somewhere, and they’ll be sending out parties to find him. They’re going to  _ kill _ him if they do.

Briefly, Jongin pulls away. Their lips barely part when he pushes forth again. His voice in Kyungsoo’s mind sounds upset.  _ ,,I am waking the forests back up… This is a good thing? Why would you hurt me?,, _

Does this not communicate little idiosyncrasies between languages? Not  _ him _ , he tries to stress. His neighbors. His friends. That’s...not much of an improvement, but they don’t understand. And they won’t get the chance to. Jongin needs to leave. He needs to run away.

_ ⹁⹁This pond needs fish, Kyungsoo, or it will die again.,, _

Living fish? Jongin may somehow be magical, but Kyungsoo sure isn’t. And he doesn’t know anywhere to get live fish. But he  _ does _ know that Jongin needs to get away from here. There’s plenty of sunlight left, and Jongin’s clearly shown that he could walk around without oxygen masks before— 

_ ⹁⹁Please, Kyungsoo. The flowers will help, but they cannot survive without fish.,, _

Is he really not going to let this go? Surely, he can hear the urgency in Kyungsoo’s thoughts.

_ ⹁⹁I DO hear you. I cannot abandon the pond for the sacred lotuses to die again. If you wish to help, then please help me.,, _

“I don’t  _ know _ where to get fish!” Kyungsoo shouts in frustration. He’s spent all day so worried only to come here and have this inane discussion. “There aren’t anymore fish! If I  _ had _ any fish, I swear to all the gods, you can have them all, but I  _ don’t _ !”

Jongin purses his lips in annoyance as he listens to Kyungsoo’s tirade. He looks down between them and points once again at Kyungsoo’s crotch.

“That’s not a fish— _ aargh _ ,” Kyungsoo growls. He makes an X with his arms and crosses them over his groin. No fish here. Not. Fish. Jongin motions for them to kiss again, and he reluctantly agrees.

_ ⹁⹁You are-,, _

_ ‘You’re a stubborn, stubborn ass _ ,’ Kyungsoo thinks, chanting it over and over to make sure it comes across loud and clear.

_ ⹁⹁Let me show you. Just please help me save this pond. And then we can do what you want.,, _

The indignance rises in his throat, and Kyungsoo has to pack away the urge to snap, reminding himself that time is being wasted. Fine. He sighs to himself and rolls his eyes from behind his lids.

_ ⹁⹁We need to get into the water. You need to remove these garments.,, _

He gives Jongin a piqued look as he hurriedly strips down. The annoyance ebbs away once his feet dip into the water, however. The cool, refreshing feeling amplified by the gentle perfume from the lotus blooms. He feels charged. Rejuvenated. Ready to take on anything, even strange fish requests from beautiful magic men. He allows Jongin to take his hand and guide him in so that the water comes up to their thighs, Jongin standing in a deeper drop so they are eye to eye. Kyungsoo crooks an eyebrow in question as Jongin watches him. Now what? Let’s hurry.

Jongin takes Kyungsoo’s hand and guides it to his own crotch, dropping it there and looking back up expectantly.

“If you think that clears everything up, you’re woefully wrong,” Kyungsoo says, knowing it’s more for self-indulgence than anything, but still too annoyed to be that big of a person right now.

Jongin dips forward carefully, one hand cupping Kyungsoo’s chin as he presses their lips together once more. This kissing thing is a pain.

_ ⹁⹁Could you hurry?,, _

Hurry with what?

_ ⹁⹁My fish.,, _

How many times is he going to have to explain that his dick is not a gateway to a fish dispensary? He doesn’t have magical powers like Jongin. If the nymph knows where to get fish, he can either go get it himself or show Kyungsoo, and he would  _ gladly _ assist, but otherwise this is getting ridiculous.

_ ⹁⹁Fine.,, _

One second, he is perplexed by the word echoing in his head, and the next, his hand is pushed aside and replaced by the nymph’s. Kyungsoo nearly falls into the water stepping back, eyes bugging out of his head as Jongin’s fingers knead in short, jerky motions.

“What are you doing!” Kyungsoo yells fruitlessly, caught in between having to kiss Jongin to carry the message clearly and fighting his body’s natural responses and pushing Jongin’s hands away. He gets an annoyed sigh from the nymph as he succeeds in freeing himself. It must be quite a sight, him with a hand cupping his crotch possessively, glaring at Jongin while simultaneously beckoning him to come back closer so he can communicate just how offended he is.

_ ⹁⹁You said to show y—,, _

_ ‘No _ ,’ Kyungsoo tries to shout out, lips pursed against Jongin’s. _ ‘This is not where fish come from. This is not _ —’

_ ⹁⹁This is how human magic works. I can create plant life. I cannot create animals.,, _

There is no more magic. The world is Broken and it is dying and there is no more magic.

_ ⹁⹁What am I then? What is all of this around us?,, _

For the life of him, Kyungsoo can’t come up with a proper argument. He can’t tell if there is magic coming off of the sacred lotuses, if tiny little organelles within the cells of each petal are converting sunlight, nitrogen, helium, and krypton out of the air into pure, totipotent magic. That was an experience he never got to have up close. His family was never the type to make pilgrimages to the temples back when they existed. But he does know that they have tried to replicate this in the university labs, and have failed, post Break. Magic cannot exist. That moon is dead. Their planet dying. But somehow Jongin can still exist and perform these feats. Somehow a forest nymph had outlasted actual gods.

_ ⹁⹁I am a Child of the sun, not of the moon. I do not need the mirror.,, _

That’s interesting, and something he can research later. But Kyungsoo still cannot make fish.

_ ⹁⹁You could not grow grapes either.,, _

A hand gently grasps Kyungsoo’s wrist, and Jongin pulls away just long enough to give him a serious look.

_ ⹁⹁I am asking you to help. The sacred lotuses need fish.,, _

What he’s asking seems to be more along the lines of having Kyungsoo either touch himself in this pond, or allow the nymph to take care of it for him. And somehow, this has to do with magical fish. Which are needed to save what might be magical flowers.

_ ⹁⹁You watched them come into existence. Why is there doubt?⹁⹁ _

Memories resurface of Jongin diving under the once toxic waters, the petals in his hair floating away, only to have the next ripples cause them to bloom into something else entirely. The hand on his wrist squeezes gingerly, just as a reminder. Kyungsoo lets out a long sigh, feeling his cheeks burn at the thought of what he has been asked to do. A part of him - a  _ large  _ part of him - still cannot wrap his head around the idea of  _ any _ of this being real, much less that somehow he is to perform magic via...this method… He never studied sex magic.

_ ⹁⹁This is not sex magic.,,  _ There is a mild note of disgust in Jongin’s voice. It is almost amusing.  _ ⹁⹁This is sacrifice.,, _

That word sends a shiver down his spine. Briefly, images that Wolf had broadcasted, portraying Jongin as evil, as some wicked creature, flashes before him. Even knowing Jongin can see, he is unable to control conjuring up the visual of his corpse floating in the pond, amidst the lotuses, staining their white petals a deep red. 

Jongin snickers against his lips, apparently entertained by the imagery. It forces the nymph to lean in more, to keep their connection from breaking.

_ ⹁⹁Not that kind of sacrifice. Only a little death. Not your own. You will not be harmed.,, _

He doesn’t hear Jongin say anything further, but he can feel the impatience rolling off of the nymph in waves. Does this mean that Jongin could feel his nervousness? His fear too? No answer. Just Jongin squeezing his wrist yet again, urging him to hurry it up already. 

Kyungsoo winces and reluctantly runs his fingers over his groin. Just...get it over quickly. This doesn’t have to be a performance. It is just...routine maintenance. His eyes are closed. He can just tune Jongin and the pond and the idea of ritual sacrifice right out of his mind. ...Yep.

Thankfully, Jongin is understanding and stays quiet, bringing his hands up to rest on Kyungsoo’s shoulders again. It’s not exactly a comforting feeling. Too much of a reminder. A long,  _ long _ minute passes of Kyungsoo trying to stimulate himself and getting nowhere. It’s simply too awkward and nerve-racking.

One of Jongin’s hands slides slowly down his arm and over his fist. The touch is soft, as if asking permission, but there is no deep voice inside his head to confirm it. To not spook him further, he supposes. With a sigh, Kyungsoo lets his own hand drop. His body is tense, and he still jerks in surprise at the first touch of Jongin’s fingers.

He had expected...perhaps a more clinical, detached procedure, holding his breath in anticipation for the rough strokes to start. Instead, Jongin’s thumb circles over the tip while short fingernails delicately scratch along the length. His body responds to the exploratory caresses, and Kyungsoo tries not to focus too much on the tingling jolts of pleasure as he feels himself swell to the touch. Just pay attention to something else. Anything else. This is to save someone’s life, this is just...just focus on something else.

Except the world now exists mostly in silence outside of the biomes. He can hear the occasional rustle of wind, but otherwise, the only other thing Kyungsoo can pick up on is Jongin’s breathing, Jongin’s lips against his. The fragrant flowers that make up his crown. He can even feel the nymph’s pulse against his skin.

An unexpected moan from Kyungsoo causes them to accidentally part, as a wave of pleasure ripples through him. Jongin eagerly reconnects them, his free hand coming up to cradle the back of Kyungsoo’s neck as he starts to stroke over Kyungsoo’s arousal. Another moan. He can’t help it. Too late, he realizes his lips are moving all over Jongin’s, and the man is meeting him with equal vigor. Every blissful pulse somehow magnifies through him, amplified like an echo chamber. He has to hold onto Jongin to stay upright, clinging to the crooks of the man’s arms, moaning into his mouth.

His shoulderblades protest the tension he’s placing on them, and other parts of his body join in to remind Kyungsoo to maybe relax a bit, but he can feel pressure building in his groin, climbing higher with each pull of Jongin’s hand. Even dry, even with Jongin’s rough palm—

Jongin lets go. Kyungsoo startles and opens his eyes to see what is going on. He pants as he watches Jongin bring his hand to his lips and spit into his palm, all while holding Kyungsoo’s gaze. His hand returns, fisting around Kyungsoo’s swollen, heated skin. It helps him glide along much more smoothly, but the action leaves them staring at each other as Jongin resumes his motions. 

Another moan falls from Kyungsoo’s mouth as Jongin swirls his thumb over the head. This staring contest is too much. It’s embarrassing. He pulls Jongin back to him and mashes their lips back together. At least this way, there isn’t that intense gaze. The pleasure spirals again, and Jongin moans suddenly against him. His hands drop to Jongin’s waist out of reflex, fingertips digging into the flesh, kneading anxiously as they pant against each other. All of his senses feel so heightened, his skin growing increasingly sensitive with each stroke of Jongin’s hand.

And then just as the saliva is starting to dry, his mind whites out with a couple of fervent tugs from Jongin’s hand, and it seems as if time stops as ecstasy explodes through him, rebounding through his whole body. It lasts for ever, until his consciousness floats back down, and he slowly becomes aware that they’ve somehow waded deeper into the pond, with Jongin struggling to keep them both upright. 

His eyes flutter open. Kyungsoo feels utterly drained. He can’t even summon up the energy for embarrassment or modesty as he leans heavily against Jongin’s shoulder. Globs of white float just under the surface, but as he watches, they seem to dissolve, almost vibrating as they slowly vanish. Soft lips press into his temple briefly before Jongin wraps his arms around him and slowly guides them out of the water.

He’s nearly started dreaming when he feels himself going sideways. Too weak and sluggish to brace for impact, Kyungsoo’s pleasantly surprised to feel a grip leading him gently to soft ground instead. The smell of flowers waft into his nostrils again, much more fragrant. Like in the meadow. A hand tips his head forward, and Jongin’s lips ghost across his again.

_ ⹁⹁Thank you.,, _

Kyungsoo cannot figure out the reasoning behind the gratitude. His brain has turned off anything unessential to survival by this point. Amidst dreams, he senses Jongin leaving, and the thought saddens him, but Kyungsoo is already drifting off to sleep, no longer able to resist.

He comes to again as footsteps approach. With bleary eyes, Kyungsoo lifts his head weakly to locate the source, finding Jongin stepping over him to settle by his side, smiling. Without a thought, he pulls Jongin’s face to his. A spark again. He should ask questions, like where did the nymph run off to.

_ ⹁⹁I went to check. It has worked.,, _

Jongin sounds so happy. It makes him happy in turn. Hazily, his brain supplies the “it” in question. Something about fish. Curiosity pulls him back more into consciousness. He can think a lot more clearly, although the exhaustion remains.

_ ⹁⹁You will recover with rest.,, _

Some other thoughts must have flitted through his mind, unfiltered and raw, but he really is so drained. Jongin pulls away to settle a breath away from him. He is still close enough that Kyungsoo can smell the flowers in his hair compared to the periwinkle they were lying in. The combination is soothing. He is asleep again before he realizes it.

Vaguely, he recalls being awakened due to some discomfort. It was too cold, and he spoons into someone warm, probably Sehun, who must have hogged all of the blankets again.

Strange noises stir him from slumber once more, and Kyungsoo tucks into the body next to his to try and prolong his dream. But the noise happens again, and there's something about the air that is dragging him reluctantly into consciousness.

_ Splash _ .

Shit. Oh no, their water line has sprung a leak. Kyungsoo bolts upright, bleary eyed, and tries to climb to his feet, but only manages to dig them into soft soil instead. It takes a long moment of confusion for his mind to finally wake up and make sense of his surroundings. These flowers, the dim light from the sliver of early morning sun filtering in over the eastern horizon. The forest nymph curled up in the bed of periwinkle before him, white freckles glowing, hair almost a silvery white. Memories return of the pond. He...he had…

He had _ fallen asleep _ . It is morning.

_ Splash. _

He tastes metal on his tongue as adrenaline floods his system. The hunting parties must be here. “Jongin,” he hisses under his breath, gripping the nymph by the shoulders and shaking him. 

It takes a few vigorous rattles to finally rouse Jongin, who whines as he pulls himself upright. He rubs his hands all over his face as he cracks a huge yawn, unaffected by Kyungsoo’s urgency or signalling for him to keep quiet. Once he’s finally finished with his yawn, another splash resounds through the area. Instead of fear, he bursts into a wide grin and stands quickly, pulling Kyungsoo along with him.

“No!” Kyungsoo says, trying to yank back as Jongin struts toward the pond. “What are you doing! We have to hide!”

But they are almost to the water now, and he can’t see another soul anywhere. Kyungsoo looks around in confusion, still on edge as Jongin leads him to the pool. The man says something and then crouches down, pointing excitedly at one of the lotus leaves.

After another nerve-racking sweep reveals no immediate threats, Kyungsoo purses his lips and drops down as well, squinting at the direction that Jongin is pointing. He falls back on his rear a moment later when a small splash disrupts the surface of the water. The nymph giggles at him, and Kyungsoo shoots a quick glare before turning back. He sees it this time: tiny, tiny minnows swimming up to the surface.

Jongin points further into the pond. It takes a bit for his brain to access the terms, but he recognizes what looks to be small loaches and carp. Fish. Real fish. That came from…

Kyungsoo claps a hand over his mouth as yesterday’s events rush back to him. “Oh no, oh no, oh no,” he chants. He finds his suit folded up near them and hurries over to pull it on. He had slept  _ all night _ out here, when Jongin should have been escaping. Not to mention, he should not have been able to do that and survive the cold. That, and a flurry of other thoughts and panic diminish the amazement of seeing spontaneously generated jizz fish. “We—you—you have to go,” he repeats. “This is dangerous. They’re probably here already.”

It takes a frustrating amount of time to successfully communicate this to Jongin. Fear is causing his brain to go a million miles a minute, and after Jongin says the only place he can go to is back to the mountains, too far away, Kyungsoo decides to take matters into his own hands. They fight, eating up too much precious time, as Jongin demands that the animals get to come too.

“No,” Kyungsoo had to say, putting his foot down. “No pets. No mascots. No sassy animal sidekicks. Not unless you want them to turn into adorable snacks for when people come and tear you to pieces.” Although upset, Jongin resigns and says something to the animals, sulking as he watches them take off in the opposite direction.

Biome 7 is closest from here, and the terrain is flat. They would be able to see hunting parties from a ways off. He has a grumbling Jongin stay behind as they near the biome, and hide amongst some dead trees. It takes six stressful minutes for Kyungsoo to get someone to scan him in, race into the nearest rental and repair shop, and return with a worn-out suit to disguise Jongin. It takes nearly as long to stuff Jongin into it, his complaints only growing louder once Kyungsoo engages the oxygen filter.

He loses concentration for a little bit, staring at the pile of flowers on the ground. Kyungsoo had to pluck all of them out of Jongin’s hair to help him blend in better. The soft white petals spread out over the dirt like a grave marker. It makes him feel uncomfortable. But then Jongin starts whining again about the acrid taste in his mouth, and Kyungsoo remembers that they need to get back before someone runs into them and decides to investigate the stranger in more depth.

His biome is pretty normal when they arrive. Not everyone gets the weekend off, and even those who can, can’t afford to put that much extra usage on their suits, possibility of reward or not. They arrive at his house without a hitch. It’s empty. He had not remembered his brothers discussing joining the hunt for Jongin. He could not picture that they would be interested in killing someone for Wolf. Another uncomfortable feeling... After loaning Jongin some of Sehun’s clothing, he hurriedly finds some food. His stomach is eating itself. He had not eaten since breakfast yesterday.

It is a great inconvenience, having to kiss to communicate. Especially since they are on high alert right now. He voices his displeasure to Jongin, who starts grumbling yet again about the smell of the biome, and Kyungsoo has to step away before he has to hear the rest of it.

_ ⹁⹁What is your plan?,, _

“ _ Kyungsoo! _ ” roars a voice before a flurry of hands land on him, striking his face and forearms as he tries to defend himself.

“S-stop!” he yells back, grabbing Baekhyun’s arms, only to have him change tactics and crush the air out of Kyungsoo’s lungs instead.

“What are you–I thought you were  _ dead _ –how did you– _ who _ were you  _ kissing _ ?” Baekhyun blurts out, rapidfire, before he ends up staring up at Jongin, who’s backed himself up against the wall, eyes wide in shock. Further behind them, Sehun walks in and shuts the front door. Their expressions match.

He had a speech ready for when he ran into his family when they first got here, but it’s fled him now. “Uhhh…”

Eyes still trained on Jongin, Baekhyun circles him suspiciously. “Who is this guy? Where have you been?”

“Calm down,” Kyungsoo says, holding his hands out.

“Calm down?” Baekhyun yells again as Sehun quietly sheds his suit and hangs it into the charger. “We were out until dark last night, freezing our asses off looking for you, and we were back out for the last hour to see if we could find your body! Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

“I'm fine,” Kyungsoo says, flinching as Baekhyun smacks his arms again. 

“We thought you got kidnapped or  _ worse - killed _ \- by that forest daemon!” Baekhyun starts pacing, occasionally remembering to turn and stare daggers at Kyungsoo as he rants. “Is it asking so much for you to just say you were spending the night with your–your goddamn  _ boyfriend _ ?”

“Boyfriend?”

Only when Baekhyun turns to glare at Jongin does he pause and get a better look at him. His tanned skin, his now golden hair, and most conspicuously, the freckles glowing across his cheeks. Even without the floral crown, he looks otherworldly. 

“He...who…” Baekhyun trails off, staring blankly at the nymph.

“He's not my boyfriend,” Kyungsoo belatedly answers.

“Everyone saw you two making out,” Sehun adds, still standing further back, a safe distance away.

“We were  _ not _ making out,” Kyungsoo argues, before Jongin starts talking to him in a worried tone.

“The fuck…” whispers Baekhyun, eyes widening as he listens to Jongin go on. He addresses Jongin in Eoneo, heavily accented and unsteady, rusty from disuse. 

Jongin positively lights up as he recognizes the words, answering excitedly. They go back and forth, with Baekhyun stuttering out choppy replies to the nymph’s questions. They've completely tuned Kyungsoo out. He's almost offended.

“Your boyfriend likes Hyun better,” Sehun whispers as he sneaks around the two to head into the kitchen.

“He does not,” Kyungsoo snaps before correcting himself. “I mean, he's not my boyfriend.”

“Yeah?” Sehun asks, picking at the food Kyungsoo had set out. “Why's he in my clothes then? Where are his?”

“Kyungsoo,” interrupts Baekhyun, “...explain. Fast.  _ Now _ .”

“What did he tell you?”

Baekhyun doesn't take his eyes off of Jongin, but he grits his teeth and grimaces. “That you better tell me what's going on, or I'm gonna make you wish you died in the cold last night,” he threatens.

No chance for much evasiveness when Baekhyun is like this. He doesn't think Jongin is the type to lie either, so no storytelling. How much can he reveal here? He has to keep Jongin safe, but he has to keep his  _ family  _ safe too. “He’s...he needs a place to stay for a couple of days,” Kyungsoo hedges.

“He’s practically glowing in the dark,” Baekhyun says, his voice flat, not letting up on his glaring one bit. “Try again.”

“He  _ does _ need a place to stay…” Kyungsoo grumbles.

Jongin speaks up again, stepping closer to him as he explains something to Baekhyun. And then he’s turned around and shoved his face up against Kyungsoo’s. Surely, he can’t expect—except he does, and Kyungsoo tries to hold still as the spark passes between their lips, hoping to just get this over with quickly.

_ ⹁⹁He says he’s your brother. Is he your brother? I told him what happened.,, _

And more rapidfire questions. It’s hard to focus, with his brain reflexively rushing to answer each one in succession. He gets carried away trying to calm Jongin down, that he almost forgets they are not alone, nearly jumping out of his skin when Baekhyun clears his throat loudly.

“Uhh…” Kyungsoo stares at his older brother, trying to fight the blush creeping over his face. “That wasn’t what it looked like.”

Sehun snickers, but Baekhyun remains stoically unamused. “Explain,” he repeats.

Leap of faith. “He’s the forest nymph everyone’s trying to hunt,” Kyungsoo says, glancing over to check as Jongin sidesteps and tries to hide behind him.

“Yeah, I deduced that,” Baekhyun spits out, “hurry up.”

“I mean-” Kyungsoo struggles with what else to say, “I mean, that’s it? He’s the one everyone’s looking for. He’s bringing plants back to life. He purified a pond. And now there are hunting parties out there trying to kill him, and we need to save him.”

“Why?”

Kyungsoo blinks. What? “What do you mean,  _ ‘why’ _ ? We need a reason to help another human being?”

“He’s not human,” Baekhyun explains calmly. “He’s a demigod. So tell me why we should put our lives at risk for someone who’s way more powerful than we are. He’s fine on his own.”

“Are you kidding me?” Kyungsoo asks. “He can make  _ flowers _ . He can’t  _ fight _ ! He’s not bulletproof!”

Baekhyun shakes his head slowly. “He thinks he can bring magic back into this world through plants. You’re the botanist. This would be an impossible task, even if he was met with no resistance and encouraged every step of the way. Instead, even if we could trust everyone in this area to agree to abandon the reward, there will still be many others Wolf could send after him. They’ve got us all in a chokehold, and they only have it because magic is gone. They’re not going to compromise.”

“So...what are you saying?”

“I’m saying if ‘the right thing to do’ is what you’re wanting, then we can give him some food and clothes and make sure his path between here and the gate is safe. That’s the right thing to do. Beyond that, anything else is asking a  _ lot _ more than just 'the right thing,’ Kyungsoo.”

“Why would we send him away?” Sehun butts in. “He could help us fight.”

“What?” Kyungsoo asks in disbelief.

“No,” Baekhyun adds.

“Listen,” Sehun continues. “You're always saying how we should do more than talk. And here we have an actual demigod or whatever. How much more of a sign do you need? He could, like, defeat Nasda and Wolf.”

“ _ No _ ,” Kyungsoo says firmly as Baekhyun scoffs at the idea. He had never considered that his family might have opinions on this. What if Sehun had been the one to somehow run into Jongin that first day? “I brought him here. I'm responsible for him. We can't kick him out.”

Sehun stubbornly holds his ground. “He can help us–”

“No,” Baekhyun repeats. He says something to the nymph clinging to Kyungsoo, and sighs at the answer. “He can stay here until the hunting parties come back,” he decides. “If it's too late by then, he can stay the night. But he has to leave by tomorrow morning at the latest—”

“You-”

“-and that's final. This isn't up for discussion.” Baekhyun hits him with a hard stare. “We can't afford to take in lost puppies, Kyungsoo.”

“How can you  _ be  _ like this?” Kyungsoo barks.

“Because you're not thinking clearly. You want to help,” Baekhyun says, face solemn, “And that’s very noble. But  _ I _ want to keep my family alive.”

Anything else Kyungsoo tries to say falls on deaf ears, and he and Jongin retreat to his room as Baekhyun and Sehun continue to argue. It eventually explodes with one of them storming out of the house, and the other banging pots and pans around in the kitchen for a while before disappearing to the other bedroom as well. Jongin, hair now darkened to a rich umber, is going through some of Kyungsoo’s old textbooks, and pointing at familiar plants. Kyungsoo's learned the Eoneo terms for so many of them now, whatever good that will ever do him.

They had finished gorging on a mediocre meal (with Jongin making  _ many _ disgusted faces, and for whatever inexplicable reason, laughing hysterically when he discovered Kyungsoo was drinking wine, mentioning something about goats) and were on a roll with teaching Jongin some basic Malhada vocabulary when his door swings open, hitting the wall with a loud thud as Sehun rushes in.

“Kyungsoo, oh my gods, I’m sorry,” his brother hurries out, eyes panicked. “I’m so sorry, he has to go. They know. They’re coming.”

“What?” Kyungsoo startles, stumbling as he tries to climb out of bed, tripping over his own limbs.

“Right now,” Sehun says breathlessly. He’s sweating and red faced, panting. “I’m sorry, but they’re headed here right now.”

Reflexively, Kyungsoo runs to the window. There’s nothing to see beyond the sun starting to set. He turns and races back to Sehun, shaking him. “What are you talking about?”

There’s alcohol on Sehun’s breath. This is not good. This is  _ definitely _ not good. Sehun bursts into tears as he grips Kyungsoo’s arms. “I’m sorry, I was talking to some friends, and th-then I don’t know! We got carried away.” He’s hiccuping too much, making it hard to comprehend. Jongin stands next to them, eyes filled with worry as Sehun turns to him. “And someone told people, but it was just to try and recruit the nymph into helping us. But then this other group of people argued it was safer to j-just collect the reward, and now they’re coming, and I’m so sorry.”

Baekhyun meets them at the door, investigating the commotion as Kyungsoo runs toward the charging units to take out his suit, trailing Jongin and Sehun behind him. Sehun tearfully fills the oldest brother in as he continues to apologize.

“What are you doing?” Baekhyun asks warily.

“I gotta get him out of here,” Kyungsoo says.

The answer doesn’t seem to surprise Baekhyun. “It’s almost nighttime.”

“I know.”

“No one can survive outside of the biomes at night,” Baekhyun reminds him.

“We did,” Kyungsoo shoots back as he holds Jongin’s suit out for him. No one’s told Jongin what’s going on yet, but he seems to have pieced together that something clearly did, and complies without a word. Kyungsoo looks back at his brothers. “We can again.”

Baekhyun doesn’t try to stop him. His brothers follow them as Kyungsoo leads Jongin through the narrow alley along the perimeter of their biome, to the gates. They run into some neighbors, but no one seems to try and stop them. They get a few suspicious looks, but Kyungsoo reasons that it’s more likely due to them heading in the opposite direction as night approaches than anything to do with the hunting parties. 

“Just...reconsider,” Baekhyun says softly. He has been reminding Kyungsoo the entire walk that Jongin is a demigod, and he can take care of himself, and that perhaps a better plan would be to have Jongin leave, while Kyungsoo sees what he can do here to change people’s opinions. Anything to keep him from leaving.

“I won’t.”

“You’re talking suicide,” Baekhyun continues. “He can survive out there. Who knows how you did?”

They’re approaching the gate. Kyungsoo halts and flips first his oxygen mask, followed by Jongin’s, and pulls the nymph’s face down to his. The brim of their masks knock against each other, but he makes it work. Can he survive outside in the cold? He had last night. He has no recollection of how he did, but clearly it happened.

_ ⹁⹁I protected you. I can still do it, but your family wants you to stay.,, _

Kyungsoo tilts back just enough to make eye contact. “He can protect me,” he says, still looking at Jongin. “I’ll be fine.”

“There they are!” cries a voice, too close for comfort. 

Kyungsoo can’t make anyone out from here, but Baekhyun blanches and flips his mask back down. “Go!” he yells, shoving Kyungsoo toward the gate.

He thought he would get to say goodbye and make plans on how to rendezvous after. This is so abrupt, he doesn’t get a chance to process anything. Sehun is yelling at them, but everything is a blur as Jongin pulls him away, out the gate.

They’re followed by half a dozen people who are still in their suits, bullets whizzing by them, booming in the background. The chase is abandoned quickly, as the cold forces them back into the safety of the biome. His heart is wanting to beat right out of his chest. These are his neighbors. They just tried to murder not only Jongin, but  _ him _ as well. Or at least showed no regard for his life anyway. A minute into their run, Jongin makes a frustrated noise and flips the mask back up, unable to tolerate the bitter, force filtered air any longer. There is only a sliver of moon in the sky tonight, and he can  _ sense _ that it must be cold, but it only ever gets somewhat uncomfortable, not debilitating. Before them, behind them, is a monochrome landscape. He has no idea where they must be headed, but surely, they’ve passed the pond by now. Any attempt to push back his mask gets throttled by Jongin, who only shakes his head and tries to hurry them along more.

Here, the sky is crystal clear, and he can make out the stars as they ascend the uneven terrain. It’s a steep climb, made even more difficult with the thick suit and the dark. He’s exhausted already, losing his footing on some steps and snagging his suit on dead trees. Finally, after what must be hours, something rustles ahead of them, and Jongin speaks. The words hold no meaning for Kyungsoo, but he stays quiet as the nymph continues. No trace of fear in his voice as the noise comes again. They slow down, and Jongin grabs his gloved hand and leads him down a narrow path.

He gasps as Jongin flips his mask up. The air feels thinner than it is at the pond, and he can definitely feel the chill, but it is within acceptable limits. Jongin’s lips touch his, warm, but chapped.

_ ⹁⹁We’re here.,, _

Where is ‘here’. He can’t see anything. All he knows is they must have climbed up a hill or mountain or something.

_ ⹁⹁Yes, we are in the mountains. We are in my grove. It is safe.,, _

_ ‘How do you know?’ _ Kyungsoo asks.

_ ⹁⹁The gods have been waiting for us here.,, _

And then Jongin breaks away to eagerly shed his UV suit. Kyungsoo’s eyes eventually adjust, and at Jongin’s behest, he leaves his boots by his folded up suit and walks forward. The ground is soft, fuzzy. He crouches down for a closer inspection, and finds what appears to be dense moss. Jongin walks ahead and twirls, doing a brief dance. The freckles across his face look like lines of light from how fast he moves. And suddenly, the whole area lights up, in a wide perimeter around them, illuminated by glowing flecks. It’s still dim, but it’s enough to see without straining. He turns back to find Jongin, but his jaw drops at the sight of the tree behind the nymph.

Before him is a massive olive tree, gnarled and cavernous with twisting vines of gold. Each step closer brings warmth. Encouraged by the nymph, he walks right up to the tree and looks around them again. They are standing on the edge of a perfect circle of trees, all sacred Betulas aside from the single, enormous olive.

A holy grove. He remembers Jongin saying it earlier, but it did not hold any meaning at the time. It only just now connects. ‘My grove’ to the nymph had meant...a place like this. He looks nervously to his feet, trampling on the vibrant green moss. Memories of his parents telling their children of  _ their _ parents’ pilgrimages to such groves return to him.

Jongin grabs his arm and turns him around. It’s a good distraction. He’s too much in his own head.

_ ⹁⹁This is just my home. Do not be nervous. I can feel your guilt. It is misplaced.,, _

Temples are built from fallen branches in groves like this. Whole villages will trek to these groves to gather the wood and hand carry them back home. A painstakingly slow process, often stretching across generations to complete.

_ ⹁⹁Because this is where magic is most potent on the surface. The trees take centuries to grow. They hold more residual magic than any other wood.,, _

He had studied this, back in the day. This was his thesis. This was what allowed temples to be the fonts of magic that they were pre-Break, where doctors brought their patients to heal after surgery, letting the concentrated magic help stimulate the magic within themselves into repairing their bodies. Many have postulated that the groves were just naturally occurring, random.

_ ⹁⹁They are not random. They’re created when we are born.,, _

_ ‘We.’  _

_ ⹁⹁My brothers and sisters. We could talk to each other...through the network of roots. But either there is not enough magic to make a connection, or...or I’m the only one left.,, _

Jongin’s sorrow bleeds into his own consciousness, and Kyungsoo’s chest aches at the loss and isolation. But how did Jongin even survive all of this, if he is the last one?

_ ⹁⹁I slept. I slept through the death of the first moon.,, _

_ A lazy nymph _ , Kyungsoo thinks, before recoiling as Jongin bites down on his lip. “Ow!” he cries, pressing his lips together to help alleviate the sting.  _ It was a joke! _

_ ⹁⹁I slept because Ungnyeo asked me to. So that her son’s new city could thrive. They did not need me, and so I slept.,, _

The name must be wrong. It was spoken clearly in his head through their link, but surely...he does not mean Ungnyeo as in th-

_ ⹁⹁The bear woman. She was the first to become a goddess in this region. Do you know of her?,, _

Chills run down his spine. Baekhyun was the historian, but even with his foggy memories of primary school history, he recalls the nation’s creation myth dating back over 4000 years. He had known that Jongin must not be as young as he appears, but his assumption was the nymph was possibly...an octogenarian at best, as if that was better somehow.

_ ⹁⹁The planet and sun are over four billion years old. We are the ones who brought life to this world. Humans needed vegetation to survive, and you have only been around for two hundred thousand years. I am not the old one here, you are just young.,, _

Kyungsoo has to pull away to breathe. That’s enough for tonight. Too much mindblowing information at once, coupled with too close of proximity to someone else for too long, either his brain is going to break or he’s just going to pass out. Jongin continues to speak aloud as they lie next to each other. Kyungsoo doesn’t try to interrupt him, letting Jongin ramble in warm, soothing tones as he looks up at the surviving moon. His worries - his brothers’ safety,  _ their _ safety, being able to return home and to some semblance of a normal life - leech out of him as he watches the sky overhead. He should compare, see if the light freckles on Jongin’s face match up with any of the constellations, but it’s better to listen to him talk than to satisfy a fleeting curiosity. Not long after, he sleeps once again.

—

At Kyungsoo’s request, the nymph relents and keeps Sehun’s shorts on, but adamantly refuses any other clothing. They spend the morning in a strange zone between boredom and tension, alternating between worrying whether the hunting parties would find them, and thinking up new fruits to eat. The grove is breathtaking in the daylight. It almost sings to him in his mind. A short walk outside of the circle of trees is a spring, crystalline blue and teeming with small fish and other life, with sacred lotuses floating atop the surface. These flowers have matured, a deeper blush throughout instead of a soft pink at the tips, and releasing glowing gold dust that get carried off at the slightest breeze. Inside him, the song grows to a forte.

When asked whether they should try to make weapons to defend themselves in the event of an attack, Jongin shrugs off his clothes and dives into the water instead, first coaxing and finally taunting Kyungsoo to come join him. 

“Don’t ask for fish again, eh?” Kyungsoo warns as the nymph swims toward him. He sighs and holds the briefest of pecks to repeat it in his mind, breaking away before Jongin has a chance to answer.

Jongin snickers at him, eyes crinkling up into narrow crescents as his laughter blooms into loud guffaws. There are tiny buds in his once again golden hair. It only now connects that the blossoms are olive flowers, matching Jongin’s tree. They flatten against his hair as Kyungsoo splashes him, sticking his tongue out petulantly at the sputtering nymph. This starts a fight, ending minutes later with both of them choking and coughing in between snorts and victory cries. They reach an uneasy truce, with Jongin floating over to him and leaning in again.

Kyungsoo waits, but no messages pass through as Jongin’s lips move across his own. Jongin’s forehead rests against his, and then another brush of their lips before he can hear in his head a soft ‘ _ thank you _ .’

_ ‘For what?’ _ he asks.

_ ⹁⹁You did not have to come with me.,, _ A rough thumb caresses his cheekbone, and in the nymph’s words, he can  _ feel _ the relief, the joy.  _ ⹁⹁You could have brought me to the gate and that be it. Or not come back to the pond to tell me at all.,, _

‘It was nothing’ is the automatic thought that comes to mind, but that is not a truth. ‘You are so beautiful’ comes next, but that does not fit here either. Kyungsoo is pretty sure Jongin can hear them all anyway, along with their accompanying critiques. What an odd thought, that Jongin may be... _ eons _ old, but has spent nearly all of his life in isolation.  ‘ _ I had to _ ,’ he decides is the most appropriate choice.

_ ⹁⹁You did not. So thank you.,, _

Kyungsoo pulls away, holding onto the nymph’s face as he skims through his thoughts, thankfully in private as Jongin watches silently. He has no plan. None. He has no idea what happens next. What would happen with Jongin, what would happen with himself… Jongin leans in again, catching him off guard.

_ ⹁⹁I do not know what happens next. The gods woke me to restore the forests. For now, I wait for them to decide what to do.,, _

_ ‘Did you just read my mind?’ _ Kyungsoo asks.

_ ⹁⹁I can see it in your face. I can feel it when you speak.,, _

Kyungsoo makes a disgruntled sound. None of this is alleviating his anxiousness.

_ ⹁⹁Perhaps you should go ‘make some fish’, and see if that helps...,, _

He answers with a big splash of water into Jongin’s smug face, and then swims away as quickly as he can.

Back on shore, his nerves are practically buzzing. Jongin’s smartass comment combined with Kyungsoo’s anxiety and boredom produce this rather irritating side effect of being fixated on the memory of the last time they were in the pond, back by the clearing. …Making fish.

Jongin does a happy twirl when he comes back to the grove. He seems ecstatic to be home. Perhaps this is his first time back since he was awoken. He skips over to Kyungsoo, pulling him back up and spinning them in circles. The carpet of moss is spongy and soft beneath them, and even Kyungsoo gets caught up in the nymph’s energy and allows him to lead Kyungsoo around in crooked ellipses for a few minutes before growing embarrassed, and begging off to sit on the sidelines and watch. Jongin runs up to the great olive tree and rests his forehead against the wood for a beat, before leaping away and skirting along the perimeter of the grove. 

His eyes sting from forgetting to blink as Jongin dances. It’s mesmerizing, and the entire grove responds to the forest nymph’s delight. In the background, colors blooming to life around them. He can feel tears welling as the song that has been building in his chest somehow echoes through the trees, rustling leaves accompanying the tune as Jongin moves along effortlessly to it all.

The dance ends with Jongin collapsing and sprawling out in the center of the grove, in a fresh new bed of tiny yellow flowers, spicy and fragrant. Kyungsoo reacts on instinct, crawling over him and dipping his face down to connect their lips again. Jongin moans against him, and reaches up to cup his face, holding him in place.

He can feel the spark, but no words pass between them. Instead, an intense rush filters in, and it reminds him of the song earlier when Jongin was dancing. Where everything was echoing, amplifying, and he nearly mauls Jongin,  _ feeling _ the tingling burst of pleasure Jongin experiences when he bites down on his lower lip. Does Jongin feel this too? What he feels?

An answering moan.  _ ⹁⹁Yes.,, _

His hands roam over Jongin’s body on their own volition, greedy fingers dragging across the glittering sweat that’s collected on his beautiful skin. Pulling away from Jongin’s now swollen lips do nothing to halt the rebounding sensations, and he groans into Jongin’s neck as he feels hands trail along his arms, between his shoulderblades, and down his spine. Jongin’s erection digs into his lower abdomen, and he can feel his own dragging over the nymph’s thigh. He feels drunk, and a small, rational part of him reasons that he’s conflating too many emotions, getting too carried away. But his hand wraps around Jongin’s cock, and his mind blanks out all background noise, leaving a long, echoing feedback whine as Jongin’s pleasure spirals through his own body in response.

‘ _ I-is this...what you felt _ ,’ Kyungsoo tries to ask, barely able to focus enough to form words,  _ ‘back in the pond? _ ’

Jongin’s fist closes over his length and strokes upward to the tip, and everything goes white and silent again. Distantly, he can hear Jongin moaning, somewhere in the background, outside of their heads, as he gives Kyungsoo’s erection several more weak tugs, before they’re both too overwhelmed, and his hand falls to the side.

He needs distance. Kyungsoo pulls back further, so he’s straddling one of Jongin’s thighs as his hand moves. Jongin has his head tossed back, arms spread wide as his back arches. Each whimper ripples right into Kyungsoo’s skull. He feels so drunk, so high.

_ ⹁⹁What are you doing?,, _ Jongin is crying out as his hips buck into Kyungsoo’s hand.  _ ⹁⹁I cannot handle it; it is too much.,, _

He crouches over to kiss Jongin’s golden chest, lapping at the salt on his skin and feeling the muscles flex underneath him. As he works his way down, inspiration strikes, and Kyungsoo presses one last kiss into Jongin’s lower abdomen before lifting away and lapping at the swollen cockhead in front of him. His lips wrap around it just in time for Jongin to loose a series of gasps. As the first spurt of hot liquid floods his mouth, Kyungsoo feels— _ feels _ —the nymph’s orgasm as it bleeds into his own consciousness, and he whimpers as his own body responds explosively, seizing up and jerking involuntarily. Jongin’s release tastes sweet, floral, like rich honey, and he lets it linger on his tongue as he tiredly pulls away and slumps to the side before swallowing. His own cum has splattered all over Jongin’s thighs. He notices, but is too drained to summon up anything beyond basic observational skills.

_ ⹁⹁Can you still hear me?,, _ Even Jongin’s thoughts sound tired.

‘ _ Yes? _ ’ Kyungsoo answers back weakly.

_ ⹁⹁Strange.,, _

Minutes later, Jongin rolls onto his knees and pushes off the ground to stand up on shaky legs. The flowers in his hair have bloomed, almost glittery white in appearance in this light. Absolutely stunning. He looks at Kyungsoo expectantly, raising his brows in question.

Kyungsoo arches one of his eyebrows in turn, waiting as Jongin says nothing. ‘ _ What _ ?’ he thinks. No response. Finally, Jongin bends down as he tilts up to meet him halfway.

_ ⹁⹁Hello?,, _

It’s not permanent, it seems. Jongin pulls away again and looks down at the white smeared on his groin and thighs and grimaces, muttering something to himself as he walks back toward the water to rinse off. No more thoughts transfer through. Physical contact is still required to hold the connection, it seems.

‘ _ What now? _ ’ Kyungsoo asks later. They’re eating some fruit Kyungsoo had never even seen before, but is delightfully fleshy and tart. One of Jongin’s legs is slung across his knee, and apparently that’s good enough for them to still communicate. It’s convenient. He spits out a seed into his palm and flicks it into the growing pile.

_ ⹁⹁Are you still hungry?,, _

‘ _ No, I mean, like…what will happen next? Where are these gods? How can they protect us if they’re not here?’ _

Jongin gives him a confused look, brows furrowing.  _ ⹁⹁Why would they protect us?,, _ He sounds genuinely perplexed.

Kyungsoo takes another bite of the fruit and chews as he watches Jongin’s face. ‘ _...Because they’re gods?’ _

_ ⹁⹁Gods are not protectors. Gods are powerful.,, _

‘ _ Those things aren’t opposites?’ _

Jongin licks the juices off his fingers absently as he mulls over the question.  _ ⹁⹁There is no correlation either.,, _

—

_ ⹁⹁What did you do, before the moon died?,, _

Kyungsoo threads his fingers through Jongin’s hair, admiring the silvery blond color in the early morning light. It looks best, he’s decided, in the evening, where it darkens into a deep blue-black, making the flowers in his crown almost glow with the same intensity as his freckles, but this color is a very gorgeous runner-up. ‘ _ I was a botanist, _ ’ he explains. ‘ _ I worked in a university. _ ’

_ ⹁⹁No, I meant when you had magic. What could you do?,, _

A memory plays out in his mind as he explains. ‘ _ Nothing special _ ,’ he remembers. ‘ _ I could transmute things like driftwood back into seedlings. I analyzed soil, and could reconstitute the bits of vegetation in it so we could study them. _ ’

_ ⹁⹁You are kind of like me then.,, _ Jongin sounds pleased at the idea.

He snorts, ‘ _ Hardly. _ ’ There was no magical fruit growing, especially on a completely unrelated plant. He couldn’t bring things back to life. It was just...magical propagation techniques. Useful for research. His parents had him help in their lab during his early teen years when they were studying ancient cultures’ diets.

This would be such a decadent life, sleeping and eating and basking in the sun. It would be a sort of eden if they had nothing to worry about. Hours later, something rustles a few meters from them, and Kyungsoo purses his lips in annoyance. The weasel that had accompanied Jongin is here. What he had presumed was Jongin’s pet turns out to actually be a god. A very, very old one. It has been chittering away all morning before finally scampering off somewhere to give them a few moments of peace, and returned way too soon.

Only the rustling grows way louder than what a tiny animal could make, and Kyungsoo finally turns around, severing the connection as he steps forward to investigate. A hand wraps around a tree branch and a body is pulled forward, followed by another, and another. Kyungsoo goes cold as he recognizes the nervous faces, and rushes to stand in front of Jongin. 

Dozens of people pile into the grove. A few recognize Kyungsoo and shout out various greetings or threats, but more walk forward with slack jaws as they notice the massive tree behind him.

“Is that him?” asks someone in the crowd. A gun cocks, followed by several more.

“This is a  _ grove _ ,” someone else intones, wonder in their voice.

“Kyungsoo,” a familiar voice calls out, and a tall man steps forward. Chanyeol, thankfully empty-handed, stares at him with fear in his eyes. “Are you alright? You need to get out of the way.”

Someone shoves Chanyeol to the side, as more people filter into the area. He can see shotgun barrels pointed at him, and several people growl out for him to move. His heart wants to beat out of his chest. Behind him, Jongin is tense with his hands on Kyungsoo’s waist, trying to guide him to the side. More yelling. A few bold people step closer, clearly not threatened by two nude men. They give warning again, telling Kyungsoo to move out of the way. This is real. They have been found. And no damn weasel in sight—

“ _ STOP.” _

The deep voice that resounds like a huge bell in his head is most definitely not Jongin’s. It gives him a headache instantly, pulsing his temples as Kyungsoo squeezes his eyes shut. He opens them to find everyone else standing in shock, some crouching and looking to the canopy with sheer terror in their eyes.

“ _ THIS IS NOT WHY I HAVE BROUGHT YOU HERE.” _

Everyone turns to try and find the source of the voice. Kyungsoo sneaks a glance at Jongin, who seems just as worried and confused. He looks back to the group to see everyone facing them again. Only their gaze is slightly askew, and Kyungsoo looks in that direction to see the water deer standing a few meters from them, facing the crowd. ‘Why I have brought you here,’ it had said, he recalls. It had led these people carrying guns and wanting violence into a holy grove. The thought is shocking and angering. The water deer glances his way briefly, unthreatened as it addresses the crowd again.

‘ _ THIS HAS GONE TOO FAR. YOU ARE HERE TO DECIDE YOUR FATE.’ _

A brief murmur sweeps through the crowd, and quickly dies out as they collectively deduce that the voice must be coming from the animal. For some, it’s enough to try and step back to blend into the group again. For others, he can see in their eyes, the tusks and speaking are not enough to deter them.

‘ _ YOU MAY TAKE THE NYMPH AND SERVE YOUR HUMAN MASTER. OR YOU MAY RESTORE THIS WORLD TO WHAT IT WAS. DECIDE.’ _

Kyungsoo stares, uncomprehending, as he listens. It comes to him in pieces. The deer just offered to let them take Jongin. The deer had led them here to take Jongin. Like a consolation prize. He reaches back and finds Jongin’s wrist, squeezing it possessively.  _ No _ .

Through the crowd, a few words are coherent enough to flit over as they fearfully discuss. Phrases like “water deer” or “holy grove” get echoed in hushed tones. Everyone seems afraid to make eye contact with the creature. Someone pushes between two people in the front, and he recognizes more familiar faces as his stomach rolls.

“Kyungsoo!” Baekhyun yells over at him and takes a few steps closer. Sehun stands by his side, looking nervously back into the crowd.

How could they join in on this? But Kyungsoo gradually realizes they too, are unarmed. As well as many other people. Belatedly, he sees that no one is wearing a UV suit. There are plenty of elders and children in the group as well. This is not the hunting party. These are just the people from his biome.

An older woman leans on Chanyeol for support. How she must have walked the hours’ long distance it took to reach here is a wonder. “How can you help us fix this?” she asks, her voice hoarse and tired.

‘ _ THERE IS ENOUGH MAGIC REMAINING TO RESET THE CYCLE. WE CAN BRING BACK THE MOON WITH THE FOREST NYMPH’S HELP. ‘ _

The crowd grows more excited at this offering. Even Baekhyun stops trying to coax him back over as he considers the possibility of his old life returned.

From between two of the betula trees, the weasel slinks back into view and strolls over to the deer. A silent communication must pass between them for several seconds, before it too turns to look over the crowd. Gods. Something doesn’t feel right.

“This sounds good,” Chanyeol says nervously, phrasing it more like a question than a comment. Others chime in their agreement.

‘ _ RESURRECTING THE MOON DOES NOT UNDO EVERYTHING YOU HAVE PERMITTED YOUR MASTER TO DO, _ ’ the deer continues. It starts to pace, walking closer to the crowd and causing them to back up quickly, before turning and heading back to Kyungsoo. He suddenly remembers following its tracks, one week ago. ‘ _ AND IT CAN BE UNDONE BY YOUR MASTER AGAIN. AND AFTER THAT, THERE WILL BE NO MORE CHANCES.’ _

The crowd grows more confident now, no longer fearing some sort of holy vengeance. They are cheering. Kyungsoo turns to Jongin for some sort of explanation to this uneasy feeling, and is still surprised to find sad eyes looking back. He touches Jongin’s arm to try and ask what is going on as the crowd starts rallying behind the return.

_ ‘IT IS DECIDED. YOU WILL PERFORM THE SACRIFICE AT SUNDOWN.’ _

Understanding clicks a split second before the deer utters the word ‘sacrifice’, and Kyungsoo whips his head around before he can think. He wants to scream as he hears someone in the back of the crowd ask a curious ‘how?’

“No!” he shouts, his voice echoing. 

The deer turns its full attention to him. He can feel the weight of its gaze locking him in place. ‘ _ IT IS DECIDED _ ,’ it repeats.

“He is— _ no! _ He’s the only one who’s been trying to help! Are you people  _ crazy _ ? He’s  _ helping _ !”

‘ _ YOU CAN TRADE HIM FOR A FEW DAYS OF COMFORT, OR YOU CAN TRADE HIM FOR A FUTURE. _ ’

“I’m not trading him at all!” Kyungsoo yells, balling up his fists at his sides.

‘ _ YOUR MASTER HAS DEMANDED THE NYMPH’S DEATH. IF NOT THESE HUMANS, OTHERS WILL STILL COME FOR HIM. HE WILL NOT BE ABLE TO DO ENOUGH ON HIS OWN. WE HAVE DECIDED.’ _

He finds no support in the crowd. His brothers are still staring in shock, while everyone else has backed away, pretending not to see. “You’re gods, aren’t you? You’re big, bad, ancient, ultra powerful gods? You can bring the moon back yourself.”

_ ‘NO LONGER. NOT IN THIS WORLD. NOT WITHOUT SACRIFICE.’ _

“So sacrifice yourselves!” He shakes off Jongin’s hand on his arm and takes another step forward. “You are  _ gods _ , you—”

‘ _ EVEN GODS HAVE LIMITS. THIS IS THE ONLY WAY.’ _

Now, people throw in their support. In defense of the deer. He argues fruitlessly with the crowd to stop, but they push forward. His brothers clear the distance, running over to him and turning to keep the rest away. “There  _ has _ to be another way,” Kyungsoo screams at them. This can’t be happening. They are backed up against Jongin’s tree as the mass of people spread into the grove. His eyes are stinging. This is not happening.

‘ _ WE DO NOT DESIRE TO TAKE THE NYMPH’S LIFE. HIS TREE WOULD NOT SURVIVE WITHOUT HIM,’ _ the deer says, walking toward them. The weasel sidles up next to the water deer, and they discuss things amongst themselves in silence, looking up into the canopy as more people in the crowd yell for Kyungsoo to stop fighting this. 

After a minute, the deer speaks again. ‘ _ BUT HE COULD SURVIVE WITHOUT HIS TREE, AND THE TREE WOULD SUFFICE.’ _

“What?” he asks. Beside him, Jongin stiffens up and says something nervously. The deer finally turns to him.

‘ _ WE ONLY NEED ENOUGH TO RESET THE CYCLE. IT WOULD OFFEND THE SUN AND THE EARTH IF THE NYMPH WERE SACRIFICED. IT WOULD OFFEND ONLY THE EARTH IF IT WERE THE TREE.’ _

Kyungsoo feels his stomach churn. This is too pragmatic of a discussion for something like  _ sacrificing human life _ . It worsens as people—the ones who weren’t part of the hunting parties—leap at the opportunity for...an easier murder. One that will weigh less heavily on their souls. He finds Jongin crumpled on the ground, leaning against his tree, eyes closed as tears roll down his cheeks.

The nymph sobs as Kyungsoo tries to reach his face, but he doesn’t fight the kiss. ‘ _ Are they right? Can you live without your tree? _ ’ Kyungsoo asks. In the books he's read, if a nymph’s tree is chopped down, the nymph will die with it.

No verbal answer. But he can feel the grief radiating off of Jongin’s mind. It is painful.

Baekhyun crouches down next to him. “Don’t fight this anymore, Kyungsoo,” he whispers carefully. “Don’t push, or you might not be able to save him when they push back.”

“ _ How _ could this get any worse?” Kyungsoo asks, hand on Jongin’s cheek, hoping that the contact, that the ache in his own chest, meant that some of the agony is taken away, shared.

Baekhyun purses his lips and leans in closer. “They might suggest it’s better to take both of them out, to make sure it works. Please, Kyungsoo, I know you’re upset, but if you want him to live, don’t fight them on this. We can’t win, and you can’t exactly run off with his tree.”

It must have only been a little past noon when everyone showed up. Baekhyun coaxes him back into his own clothes, and he eventually convinces Jongin to follow him to the spring to wash him off at least, and get some reprieve from the curious eyes.

_ ⹁⹁They explained that they could cleave me from my tree,,,  _ Jongin explains weakly, curled up with just his toes in the water.  _ ⹁⹁We are one spirit,...and they will break us into two.,, _

That sounds horrific. Kyungsoo strokes carefully through Jongin’s chocolate brown hair, unable to come up with anything to offer as comfort. He can only chant apologies over and over in his mind, and try to repress the relief he feels. At least he has his confirmation: Jongin is... _ pretty _ sure he will survive.

“I’m sorry,” Sehun repeats for the umpteenth time once they are back in the grove. Jongin has molded himself against his tree, Kyungsoo by his side, and his brothers next to him.

“You didn’t lead them here,” Kyungsoo finally says. The deer had. He should’ve killed it back at the pond and brought it home for supper. It wouldn’t have changed Nasda’s bounty, but...this is harder to deal with. It’s more immediate.

Hours pass in silence. People mill about listlessly. They don’t even speak much amongst themselves. They must be in a strange mood, realizing that they have signed up for and are now waiting to play their part as executioner.

“Do you remember the stick we had in the old house?” Sehun asks after a while.

Kyungsoo tries to figure out what he is talking about and after a beat, gets it. The anger, the fear, all of his emotions have drained out of him in the waiting. “The twig?” he confirms.

“Yeah,” Sehun nods. “It felt like this.”

Baekhyun pulls Sehun’s fingers away from the exposed root. “Most people here have them. Or used to have them,” he explains. “I thought you would be too young to remember.”

“It was very pretty,” Sehun remarks quietly.

“They build temples out of this wood,” Baekhyun continues. “It is sacred. They only take it from dead trees, or fallen branches. Any parts that are too small to use, like little crooked twigs that can’t be crafted into tools, they leave at the temples for people to bring home. For luck.” 

Only then do they realize how silent the grove is. Everyone is listening, and they let the conversation die.

— 

The sky is a bright orange on the horizon as the sun starts to sink. They watch with dread. Jongin laces his fingers into Kyungsoo's and hides his face in Kyungsoo's neck. 

_ ⹁⹁Do you know how nymphs are born?,, _ Jongin sounds drained. This is the first time he’s spoken in hours. He has long since run out of tears.

‘ _ No, _ ’ Kyungsoo answers, stabilizing himself so Jongin’s weight doesn’t tip them over. He tries a weak joke, ‘ _ Is it like making fish? _ ’

Jongin’s lips curl up minutely and he shakes his head.  _ ⹁⹁The sun’s rays come to the earth each day to warm it. When the earth answers back, when it reaches back out, and the sun allows it, that is when a nymph’s tree is created. It grows only with constant care from both the sun and the earth. The tree pulls energy from the cosmos to be fed. From the stars and other galaxies, tiny amounts at a time, from past and future, to become a spirit. From there, we are able to walk out into the world, as people.,,  _ He pauses, rubbing at his sore eyes tiredly and leaning into Kyungsoo’s side more.  _ ⹁⹁I do not understand… When Korani said that I had to die, I only felt sadness. I was not even surprised. That is how gods work. We are only here to serve them, like tools.,, _

Inside, Kyungsoo bristles at the idea that anyone could regard Jongin as just a millennia old instrument, and he tries to force his thoughts into silence, out of courtesy.

_ ⹁⹁I...am afraid.,, _

‘ _ I’m here _ ,’ Kyungsoo offers, feeling pathetically useless. All he has to offer is comfort. He can’t say things will be okay. He can’t offer anything in return.  _ Useless _ .

A small sob escapes Jongin’s mouth, stifled into Kyungsoo’s shoulder.  _ ⹁⹁I want to go back into my tree and sleep.,, _

His chest feels like it might implode, collapse in on itself from the constriction. ‘ _ I’m sorry, _ ’ Kyungsoo repeats, feeling overwhelmingly selfish with each apology, each useless excuse to shrug off guilt.

Jongin shakes his head, keeping his face hidden from Kyungsoo’s.  _ ⹁⹁Do not feel this way. I only confide in you. I am afraid. But this will help everyone. This will bring magic back. It is worthy.,, _

‘ _ We’ve survived after the Break _ …’

_ ⹁⹁As I will survive after mine.,, _

The air is charged as the sun finally sets. No one speaks, although the occasional wind or rumbling stomach cuts through the silence. They have not eaten all day, a fast in preparation for the night. The gold vines roped around Jongin’s tree glows, followed by the scattered bursts of light around the grove, illuminating it. It is a sight to behold, and Kyungsoo bites hard on his tongue as he realizes: it is the last time they will see such a sight.

Both of the gods approach them, coming closer until they are a few paces away and turning around to face the group.

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo whispers, cradling the nymph’s face. ‘ _ Let’s go to the spring. You should not see this. _ ’ Beside him, Baekhyun leans in and whispers something similar.

_ ⹁⹁I want to be with it for as long as I can.,, _

‘ _ IT IS TIME.’ _

The booming voice rattling in his head is worse this time, whether due to proximity to the creatures, or just because it’s piled on top of the day’s exhaustion. It hurts to even keep his eyes open. Baekhyun tries addressing Jongin this time, muttering in Eoneo insistently. Jongin merely shakes his head, refusing to leave.

The crowd is silent, everyone staring at their neighbor, waiting for someone else to take action. For the last few hours, they had started up several rounds of telling their own memories to each other, reminiscing trips to the temples or their own adopted twigs or their recounts of pilgrimages to other holy groves. It must be more real now, the idea of committing such a horrific act. A temple takes generations to complete due to its arduous nature. This massive olive before them, one of the slowest growing trees in existence, possibly the last of its kind, and they are going to send it into extinction. It is right that they should at least feel uncomfortable, Kyungsoo thinks spitefully. They had not seen Jongin as a person. It is right that they should share this pain.

‘ _ IT IS TIME. PREPARE THE FIRE.’ _

Jongin slowly pulls away from him, standing upright and wandering to the other side of the tree. He sifts through something in the shadows, and comes back holding a small bundle of sticks in one hand as he faces the group of people. The weasel leaps onto him and climbs up, snaking around his neck to walk along one of his arms. Its nose touches the end of the twigs, causing smoke tendrils to drift up, before a bright orange starts to grow, until it spreads into a small fire. Again, the deer repeats the demand as Jongin holds it out, cupping a hand by it to keep it from being extinguished.

‘ _ IT HAS TO BE BY HUMAN HANDS. ONE OF YOU MUST DO IT. THE REST ARE HERE TO WITNESS.’ _

Everyone’s eyes are averted, too afraid of being the one to do it. The deer makes annoyed barking sounds and stomps its feet. A minute passes, the twigs burning down rapidly. Someone stands up and walks out in front of him. Sehun steps forward slowly, hands rubbing the sides of his thighs as he stares at the flame.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he takes the bundle, his voice quiet, but the grove is as silent as a graveyard.

Jongin answers with a few curt words, and steps to the side, watching over his shoulder as Sehun walks toward the tree.

Kyungsoo bolts for him, snatching Sehun’s wrist and stopping him from advancing. There is a determined set in Sehun’s eyes. It gives him pause. “Have someone else do this,” Kyungsoo says.

Sehun whirls around, fanning the makeshift torch at the crowd. “None of them will,” he says. “He shouldn’t have to wait anymore, when we all know it has to happen.” His jaw flexes, and his mouth opens and shuts several times silently. Finally, he whispers, “Let me do this.”

At Jongin’s insistence, Kyungsoo slowly walks over to join him. They watch as the water deer lies down several meters from the tree. The fire has trouble catching, but Sehun holds it steady and waits.

‘ _ Let’s go _ ,’ Kyungsoo tries again, only for Jongin to shake his head, not taking his eyes off the scene.

The weasel comes to the water deer’s side again, and a song slowly fills the air. It is wordless, sounding of wind instruments and morning birds and chimes. The wood darkens, and then a small flame blooms like a flower on the bark. In the whole grove, only Sehun moves to step back, the twigs burnt all the way down. All eyes are on the fire as it grows, except for Kyungsoo, who turns as Jongin tenses up.

The nymph collapses into the moss after several minutes, and Kyungsoo drops to his knees to check on him. Jongin’s whimpers turn to cries of agony as he writhes on the ground. The music grows louder, but it does nothing to mask his pain. People sob along with him in the background, whether from seeing the tree being destroyed or actually sympathizing.

‘ _ It will hurt, _ ’ a voice says in his head, and Kyungsoo looks away from Jongin’s face to see the weasel beside them. ‘ _ We are ripping apart an ancient bond to save his life. It will take a long time. _ ’

And then it returns to its spot beside the deer, and Kyungsoo has no choice other than begging Jongin to at least let him help somehow. He looks up helplessly to see fire reflect in everyone’s eyes as they watch, fear and guilt across their faces.

An unintelligible chant begins, as if the whole grove were joining in, when in fact everyone’s mouths are hanging open silently in horror. A glow emits from the gods and stretches out, like a living thing, to circle around the olive tree. It stokes the fire, and soon flames lick up to the leaves and spread out further as it slowly eats through the surface.

Kyungsoo is riveted into place as he watches the glow grow more intense. Jongin’s screams have died down to weak panting, and he wants to check on the nymph, but he can’t tear his eyes away. Their fingers stay interlaced, despite the echoes of pain he feels rippling from Jongin. This much he can offer, at least.

The fire has to work its way through living wood. It takes hours. Jongin has eventually gone numb and turned away from the pyre, holding Kyungsoo’s hand against his cheek. The grove is smoky even with the mild breeze. More hours pass. His legs ache from being locked in this position. Finally, the gods stand up, and the chanting speeds up, grows even louder. The glow emanating from the gods reach blinding levels, and suddenly the tree splits open with a deafening crack and the grove explodes with light.

Once his vision returns, Kyungsoo finds the fire extinguished and a small red orb embedded within the charred tree stump. It grows, shattering the wood around it before it is finally loose, and starts to rise. The grove is dark now as it floats above the treetops, up higher and higher, until it finally stills.

A blood moon. A sacrifice. The other one, what moments ago was a sliver of a crescent, fills out into a full moon. Two moons now hang across the sky, one silver, one red, equidistant between themselves and the horizon.

He is suddenly so tired. The spell is broken, and they are allowed their own agencies once again. His body is sore beyond belief. It is nothing like what Jongin must have experienced, he reminds himself, as he curls up next to the nymph. His freckles are still there. His flowers as fresh as they were yesterday. Kyungsoo hears someone say his name, but exhaustion knocks him right out.

—

“Kyungsoo.”

It takes a Herculean amount of effort to pry his eyelids open. Focusing on the blur in front of him is just as difficult, but eventually Baekhyun’s face appears to repeat his name again. Kyungsoo grunts in acknowledgment. 

“We think the weasel might have died,” his brother says quietly.

He forces himself up, squinting in the morning light to find rows of people slowly rousing. And then several meters away, just like last night, the small body lays motionless. He stares at it for half a minute to see if its lungs move, and finds nothing. The deer has vanished. Panic floods adrenaline through him, and he hurriedly rolls Jongin onto his back, checking for signs of life.

The nymph flutters his eyes weakly and lets out a soft whine. His hair, Kyungsoo realizes, is still the blue-black from last night. But he is alive.

The betula trees that circle the grove have died, with nothing to sustain them. The moss beneath them is brittle and brown. 

Something wet lands on his cheek, and Kyungsoo reaches up to swipe it with his fingers. Clear. Another drop lands on his head, another on the back of his hand. Rain. He stares at the water freckling the front of his shirt. It does not burn. 

Jongin stirs again and finally sits up.

Kyungsoo waits, holding his breath for the realization, but it seems Jongin is already aware, avoiding looking directly at the tree. 

‘ _ Are you okay? _ ’ Kyungsoo asks, trying to scan over his features for any injuries. Jongin only clutches at his chest and nods. His eyes are still red-rimmed and swollen.

A few people break off from the group to investigate. He can hear them return and report that it is safe to walk, even without their UV suits. One by one, shame-faced, they take any belongings they have brought, and leave after glancing at the still smoking corpse of the tree.

“Come home with us,” Baekhyun suggests as it starts to drizzle.

“Go,” Kyungsoo says, “I’ll catch up later.”

Thankfully, his brothers don’t try and fight. They wait, but after several minutes, they too leave. And then it is just him and Jongin and a dead god in a dead grove. 

“Jongin,” he prompts gently.

_ ⹁⹁I feel so strange…,, _

‘ _ How so? _ ’ Kyungsoo asks. He is worried. The gods had expected to survive this mission. What is going to happen to Jongin?

_ ⹁⹁No, I can feel it. I am not dying,,, _ the nymph explains, reaching for him. He frowns at the thin bruises on the backs of both of their hands, but slots them together gently.  _ ⹁⹁I just feel strange.,, _

Kyungsoo tries to postpone the question, but it is much more difficult to repress a thought than it is to repress his voice. ‘ _ What will happen? _ ’

Jongin shrugs.  _ ⹁⹁The gods said that I would become like a human. I will age. I will die.,, _

That is...about as much as he could hope for, given the circumstances. Kyungsoo leans in and rests their foreheads together with a sigh.

_ ⹁⹁This place was my home, and now it is nothing but a grave.,, _

‘ _ I’m sorry _ ,’ Kyungsoo repeats. Unbidden, memories of his old house flash through his mind, ending with the last one. It, too, burned for someone else’s cause.

_ ⹁⹁What do I do now? Where do I go?,, _

Kyungsoo’s face spasms as he tries to hold back a sob. He is still reliving yesterday’s events, despite his efforts.  _ ‘You can come live with me. _ ’ Only once it is voiced does he realize what a horrible idea it would be, Jongin being forced to live amongst the witnesses to the fire.

_ ⹁⹁I do not hate them. They do not offend me.,, _

It sounds like a truth. That only makes it worse. Out of ideas, he repeats the suggestion. ‘ _ Come live with me then. _ ’

Jongin pulls away and walks toward the remains of the tree, Kyungsoo trailing behind him. At the slightest touch, the charred wood crumbles into black dust. He doesn’t react other than to try and brush the charcoal off of his fingers unsuccessfully.  _ ⹁⹁The biome place smells bad.,, _

‘ _ We don’t have to go back there.’ _ Not when people can walk freely without dependency on the suits now.

Eventually, Jongin decides he wants to go back to the pond to check on it. It’s a start. Briefly, Kyungsoo considers taking their UV suits, but...what is the point. He walks by the tree stump again and crouches down, fingers hovering before a jagged piece. He takes a deep inhale of the smoky air before closing his hand around it. The brittle wood breaks off easily. It feels wrong, but he also doesn’t think Jongin would ever want to return to this place. They had done this for their old home. Perhaps Jongin might come to want to take a part of his.

—

Naturally, chaos ensued. The reappearance of the second moon is not something that would go unnoticed. Wolf tried to pin the credit on Nasda’s devout beliefs, while simultaneously pushing that if anyone had any leads to what caused these dangerous hallucinations, to report to them immediately. It would be laughable if it weren’t true. According to Baekhyun, Sehun disappeared overnight, along with many others, to join in the uprising. They resurfaced as word spread of the eve of the moon’s return. As Nasda’s team continued to yet again push for more destruction, it tipped the last of his supporters over the edge. Rebel forces grew exponentially, no longer bound by dwindling resources, many backed by rogue former branches of the government.

The people took Nasda’s home by storm. Someone had gone back up the mountains and found the dead grove. Footage of it is plastered all over the new networks. Too many remembered the temples, now extinct along with the olive trees. Things got ugly. Nasda’s home was burnt to the ground as vengeance. The man himself killed—accidental discharge, someone had claimed—but according to Sehun, after a particularly rousing speech, Nasda’s body was torn to shreds by some in the angry mob and thrown into the flames. Those who had any talent for cursing used their newly regained magic to piss on the grounds and did their best to damn it and blight his bloodline out of existence. It was savage, but after the atrocities committed, nobody uttered the words “unjust” or “excessive”. No one was charged. A week later, the one hundred and ninety-six statues built to celebrate Nasda’s reign, meant to be displayed across the world, were melted down and poured over the charred foundation of his old home to create a smooth bronze mirror, so that nothing would ever spring forth from its ashes, as a warning for others.

Everything is still in disarray, even years later. People are trying to figure out where they can fit in the grand scheme of things. In the aftermath, many people are willing to compromise, yet likely more than a few are trying to scheme their way into power. Regimes do not just get overturned, and when they do, it is rarely a 180-degree improvement. Who knows how sustainable this new system will be.

But Kyungsoo knows where he fits in the grand scheme of things. They don’t have cities anymore, not yet anyway. He’s managed to build a house right by the clearing  now that everyone’s moved out of the biomes, and he’s finding his own ways to make contributions to this brave new world. Not too far away, people have thrown their resources together to build something of a school. He gets to run their labs, until it grows enough to branch out and specialize. 

And today, he is not worried about any of that. Kyungsoo traces his fingers along the grooves in the wood, smiling at the memory of his five-year old self growing increasingly impatient with the lack of progress and abandoning his efforts to immortalize his name into the Betula. He wipes at the sweat gathering along his neck and squints up at the sun. It’s a beautiful day with just enough cloud cover. One last trip to Chanyeol’s borrowed pickup truck, and Kyungsoo waddles over to the final hole. Carefully, he tilts the sapling onto its side to pry it out of its nursery pot. Slow-growing does not even come close to being accurate. If he hadn’t kept detailed records for the past three years, he would believe they were somehow shrinking. He rolls it adjacent to the hole and pushes it gently into the rich, black soil. There.

Standing up and stepping back to survey his work, Kyungsoo turns in a slow circle and beams at the tiny new forest. It had not occurred to him until months later to take the charcoal from Jongin’s tree and try to transmute it into clone seedlings. After all, it had been years since he’s even  _ felt _ the magic within himself.

Hopefully, they'll thrive here, being in such close proximity to the pond Jongin saved, the sacred lotuses he created. The magic produced by the little pond has gotten so much stronger over the years. Other bodies of water have had to be purified by other means, but every now and then, they'll see people who make pilgrimages to this one to adopt a lotus seed pod. And inevitably, they will always comment on the fish, and Kyungsoo's cheeks will burn a bright red for the entire remainder of their visit.

Footsteps approach, and he looks back toward the house to see a sleepy Jongin walking toward him.

“Kyungsoo?” Jongin says slowly, his mouth hanging open as he takes in the clearing’s new additions. “What…”

_ Now  _ he feels doubt. He thought he'd have another hour or so before Jongin would be awake. More time to mentally prepare. “I-I grew these,” he tries to explain, worrying his lip as he watches Jongin walk up to a slender tree and touch its trunk. “Is this okay?”

“This is my tree,” Jongin’s voice is shaky, his accent becoming even more pronounced than usual. “These are from my tree…  _ How _ ...”

“Yes.” Shit. He’s panicking. “I know it’s not the same thing. I—”

Jongin pulls him in and kisses him hard on the mouth. Hot tears land on his cheeks as they embrace, and Jongin tilts his head back to look around them in wonder again before laying his forehead down on Kyungsoo’s. “I can feel them,” he sobs.

He runs his fingers through Jongin’s hair, the same blue-black since the Eve of the Blood Moon, and rubs his back comfortingly. The little buds are pushing up between the strands.  Jongin’s flowers only come in spring now and fall off once autumn comes. The only olive flowers anymore, and he had failed to successfully utilize them. But joy bounces off of him in waves as Jongin calms down. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but I guess I should have asked you… I just thought that...since this is our home, it’d make sense to plant them here. And my tree is a Betula, so I just thought it’d be...appropriate? And I know that this won’t fix things. They won’t grow in time—” He’s rambling, he knows it, but he’s unable to make himself stop.

“It is not your tree just because you put your name on it, Kyungsoo,” Jongin mutters. This is an old argument. Jongin still reprimands him for what his  _ significantly _ younger self did. However, he’s not really irritated, he just likes to bring it up from time to time, more out of habit than anything. “I can feel you in  _ these  _ trees though.”

“I grew them,” Kyungsoo repeats shyly. “They’re finally strong enough to take out of the nursery, so I figured...uh... _ surprise _ ?” He is just so, so relieved that they actually grew, and then proceeded to  _ survive _ . Each day, he had come into the nursery expecting to find dead twigs. There was no way he could have told Jongin and risked possibly giving him hope for something that might not work. It’s been difficult to say the least, keeping this a secret for so long when they have nearly no secrets between them. When it’s nearly  _ impossible _ to keep secrets between them.

Jongin smiles. It’s dazzling, his eyes sparkling above his glittering freckles. “Thank you,” he sniffles.

Kyungsoo tries to fight the flashbacks. Jongin was physically unharmed, but emotionally… The nymph may be eons old, but he's spent most all of that time alone, serving the will of the gods. Stagnant. Kyungsoo is just glad that he came back with him, and that they have lived out here in the middle of nowhere for the last few years, mostly unbothered. He can’t undo what has happened. He can’t give back what was taken. “I know it’s not your home…” he starts.

“It’s not,” Jongin says, taking his hand and staring into his eyes. He is still smiling as he looks around at the saplings again. Happiness radiates from him, like sunshine. He leans in until their noses touch. “ _ You’re _ my home.”


	2. Flower Boy

I wrote a drabble for this, based off of Jongin's new Insta updates, if you would like to read. It might grow into a full-blown sequel, but for now: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/15005381>

**Author's Note:**

> OH MY GOD THANK YOU SO MUCH IF YOU'VE MADE IT THIS FAR!!!! ALSO CHECK OUT SOME OF THE INCREDIBLE STUFF THAT PEOPLE HAVE MADE LOOK LOOK LOOK, THIS IS THE [MOODBOARD THAT MOD!LORD NUHA MADE](https://twitter.com/exogeddonfest/status/900890489712332801) FOR EXOGEDDON:  
>   
> 
> 
> AND AND AND THIS IS FROM [MY MINIMOO](https://twitter.com/kaipcakes/status/901133538304548865), WHO MAKES THE MOST INCREDIBLE ART, I AM BREATHLESS  
> 
> 
> AND OMG FINALLY THIS, DRAWN BY THE LEGENDARY [SOOPUFF](https://twitter.com/soopuff/status/900456147399974923), LOOK AT THE FISH I'M CRYING  
> 
> 
> And finally, please, please check out [this meme](https://twitter.com/kairousels/status/901192442069872640) by kairousels, because yes. [link](https://twitter.com/kairousels/status/901192442069872640)


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